Page 31 of For the Record

Turning on her heel, she clicked back inside as if she hadn’t just thrown a bomb at my chest.

I tried to leave. Multiple times. But each time my eyes and feet pointed toward the door, I felt this pull like I had to stay. Like a tiny thread was tying my shoes to the chair I sat in. I could easily break it. I simply couldn’t make myself do it. I wasn’t exactly wanting to stay and listen to family conversation as my mom forced us each to have at least one slice of cake. Luke and Layla were in their own world. A world, I assumed, where they could both use telepathy, because there was definitely some kind of unspoken conversation happening there. Beside them, Rachel happily listened to my dad, leaning in toward him as he discussed his old love of model trains.

I waited for a signal. For her to turn and give me “help me out over here” eyes. But she didn’t. Instead, she asked him questions, leaned close to hear him better, laughed at his poor jokes, and agreed when he offered to bring them out next time she came to dinner.

I couldn’t help but wonder if she was so content here because she didn’t have this herself. The bits and pieces I’d picked up on from her told me the only true family she had was her dad. And if that was the case, when was the last time she’d even had a family dinner? When had someone forced her to eat home-cooked meals and chocolate cake made from scratch? My mind began imagining her and her dad at Christmastime alone, exchanging gifts and eating dinner in his retirement home. My chest ached at the thought. No, I didn’t want to be friends with her, but I didn’t want her alone. In fact, when I imagined next Christmas, I pictured her at this exact spot. In some kind of fancy holiday dress with her hair perfectly done. I would probably have to dress nice too, to stand next to her, but that was all right.

When dessert was finished up, Crew excused himself so he could go back to his food truck and help his employees out for the rush hour. Marigold and the boys slipped out since it was a school night, which meant Liam was right behind them. Calla yawned and claimed she needed to get back to her dorm since she had an early class. All of them trickled out one by one.

I always missed this part. Usually, I shoveled enough food into my mouth to satisfy my mom and then made sure I gave my siblings each their respective time. That was all there was to do. No sense in staying. So why couldn’t I get myself out of this chair and out of the door?

Instead, I watched as Luke and Layla discussed his new bar, going on about upcoming renovations and ideas for new drinks. Rachel would chime in here or there, but she mostly sat in silence for once, taking slow bites of her cake as if she wanted this night to last a little longer.

“Adam, dear, could you help with the dishes?”

My mother’s voice chimed from the kitchen, forcing me to stand and leave the table. Luke and Layla continued their conversation. Rachel looked up from my dad to give me a reassuring smile before paying attention to him again.

The dishes were 90 percent done, but my mom stuck me on drying duty as she hummed to herself and rinsed out the last few glasses.

“You stayed later tonight,” she said, as if it was a simple observation and not like she was trying to pry into my brain.

I hummed low. “Nothing better to do.”

Which, technically, was true. I had an all-blue puzzle back home that was halfway finished, and I probably would have worked out in my basement some, but that was it. Being here was better than either of those things at the moment, so I’d stayed. As if I had a choice.

“Right, of course.” She nodded and picked up another glass. Silence fell between us other than the distant talking between the four of them at the table and the soapy water sloshing between tiny dessert plates. I took extra time drying them, working my hands through the smaller glasses as I focused in on Rachel’s soft voice pouring in from the dining room.

Layla asked about her dad in some way. Not sure what exactly, but her response had my ears perking up.

“He’s good. Struggled a bit earlier this week. They adjusted his medicine slightly for his blood pressure, and I think it messed with his levels a bit, so he got slightly confused about a few things. Nothing too bad, though. I was planning on seeing him tonight, but he said he didn’t sleep well, so I figured rest would be better than me bothering him.”

I could hear the smallest hint of a smile as she spoke, like she was reassuring Layla and herself both. She hadn’t mentioned any of this in her never-ending texts. Majority of it was saying what music she was listening to that day. I recalled a lot of Tom Petty and some Bob Dylan. What did those say about her mood? If I listened to them tonight, would it give me another piece of her?

“Were you listening to anything I just said?” My mother twisted a towel and whipped my exposed bicep.

I straightened at the sting, lifting my disassociated gaze to her. “Sorry. Was thinking.”

Her eyes squinted into slits. “Sure. I asked if you knew how long you would be in town for.”

It was a question I never knew the answer to. I typically gave guesses, because truthfully, they could call me now, and I would take off. I loved my family, truly, but nothing tied me here. My parents were busy together, covered up with their extreme hobbies. Luke and Layla were in that obsessive phase before marriage and still kind of annoying to be around. Calla was in college, and although I loved seeing her, after I helped her move in one time, she swore girls in her dorm didn’t stop asking about me for weeks. That gave me the creeps, and I officially decided to never go back. Liam was busy with his house and his two sons, plus constantly bothering Marigold. Crew had his booming food truck business to attend to. So that left me.

If work called in, I would answer simply because it kept me busy. Busy meant no time for thinking about pretty blondes who had been unknowingly taking up space in my brain.

“Not sure. About a month if I had to guess.”

I set the last glass in the cabinet and closed it, turning back to my mom, looking down at her. She nodded with a smile up at me. “Good.”

Moments later, Luke, Layla, and Rachel all padded through the kitchen, carrying their keys and looking ready to leave. She’d ridden with them. Of course she was going to leave with them. Logically, that made the most sense. But I had an overwhelming urge to offer to drive her. To watch her walk into her apartment and hear that door lock, knowing she was safe for the night. That wasn’t my job to take care of, though. It’s just…if I wasn’t going to, was anybody?

“We’re going to head out. Luke’s got an early morning tomorrow,” Layla explained before giving my mom and I both a quick side hug.

I dipped my chin in goodbye at my brother and turned my eyes toward Rachel. In that sweet dress, heels that brought her to my height, and her hands clasped in front of her waist, she swayed side to side like she was waiting for something. From me? Oh no. Was I supposed to hug her? What was the protocol here? I mean, I had kissed the woman no less than fifty times in a single night, and yet I was about to break out into a sweat thinking of a purely platonic side hug.

Sensing my panic, Rachel moved past me to give my mother a quick hug. Then she turned to me and placed a gentle hand on my bicep, giving it the lightest squeeze. Her smile reassured me. It was a slow one, but it was genuine.

“Night, Adam.” She whispered it low, like a little secret between us. I glanced over at my family: Mom handing Layla a recipe ripped out of her notebook. Luke pretty much staring at his fiancée.

I turned my gaze back to Rachel, leaning into her gentle grip on my arm. “Night.” My voice turned to gravel, forcing me to push it out.