Page 123 of Chasing Home
I’m pacing Rory’s back porch when I hear her pull up out front. She was supposed to be here an hour ago, and while I’m perfectly aware she’s found a life here with people outside of me, it isn’t like her to leave me without an update on her whereabouts. Especially not when we had plans.
Every potential reason for her absence—the bad and outright terrible—played over and over in my mind until I’d driven myself half-crazy and called Daisy, asking if it was acceptable for me to get in my truck and drive around Cherry Peak in search of her. She said fuck no, so I listened and collapsed on the camping chair that I’m pretty sure I ripped with my ass to wait it out a bit longer.
I only made it ten more minutes before I resumed pacing.
Swinging myself off the edge of the porch, I rein in my frustration. She’s here now, and that relief is far more important than anything else.
Her car door slams shut before the beep of her doors locking echoes through the cooling evening air. I’m already halfway around the house by the time she steps onto the curb, her purse nearly dragging on the ground beside her with how slouched her shoulders are.
“Where were you?” I ask before wincing at how aggressive that sounded and correcting myself. “Are you okay? I was worried.”
The need to pull her into my arms chomps at me. She’s here in front of me, and with how distraught she looks, that has to be enough for now.
“Can we sit? In the backyard?” The heaviness in her voice makes my heart crack.
“Yeah, darlin’, of course we can.”
I keep my eyes on her, watching closely as she passes me with little more than a brush of her fingers against my chest. With my stomach bunched into a knot, I follow her to the porch. She drops her bag before joining it on the edge, her legs swinging as she runs an antsy hand through her hair.
“You’re freakin’ me out a bit, sweetheart,” I say, sitting beside her.
Our thighs brush, and I press mine right up against hers, needing the small contact to soothe me just a bit. When she doesn’t pull away, I take that as a good sign. I can almost hear her mind running as she stares blankly at the tiny wooden shed beneath the crabapple tree across the yard. The ground used to be covered in its apples, but once we brought baskets of them to Eliza, she turned them into jam. I never thought I’d enjoy picking apples off the ground as much as I did then. With Rory, I think I’d enjoy just about everything.
“I’m sorry for ghosting you,” she apologizes.
“Don’t be sorry. I just want to know what’s wrong. Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”
There’s no sign of humour in her expression. “I should have called you earlier so you weren’t wasting your time here waiting for me.”
“It’s okay, Rory. I was worried, not upset because I was wasting my time. There’s no such thing, ’kay?”
She tips her shin and swallows. “Did you eat?”
“No. I was planning on making you something. If I have to eat another burger from the diner, I might actually turn into one.”
“They’ve started to taste like sawdust.”
I laugh softly at the blunt reply. “Come inside with me, and I’ll cook you something with substance. I’m not the best, but let me try.”
“Not yet. Just . . . Just sit here with me first. I want to talk out here and watch the sun set.”
It’ll be any minute now. The stars will be out before we know it. “Okay. We’ll stay here.”
She inhales deeply before speaking. “I was late because I was meeting Lee.”
“He’s here? Why? What does he want?
“He claims to want to get to know me. And Wanda. Both of us. He’ll answer all of my questions.”
I choke on an immediate refusal. It isn’t my decision whether she agrees or not. But fuck, my gut screams that this is a terrible idea.
“He flew all the way here to tell you that?” I ask stiffly.
“He said he didn’t have my number, so he couldn’t call.”
“Un-fucking-likely.”
“I know, but it doesn’t matter now. He’s here, and I haven’t given him an answer.”