Page 70 of Beautiful Crazy
Sweat pricks the back of my neck, and I fear this may have been the absolute worst way to bring this up.
Way to go, Everett.
Clearing my throat, I stuff my hands into my pockets. “Yeah. If that’s something you’d like too. I know we agreed on only friends and no strings, and while that was fine at first, I can’t pretend I don’t have feelings for you when I do.”
She swallows. And blinks. Her shoulders are tense, and part of me wonders if she’s about to bolt. Before she can answer, my phone rings from inside the house. It startles me, and we both look in that direction.
“It’s fine. Let it goto voicemail.”
“You… You have feelings for me?” she asks, brushing a hand through her hair, brows pinched together.
“I thought I made it pretty obvious.” I breathe out a laugh. “But yes, Gemma, I have feelings for you. How could I not? I don’t mean to spring this on you; I just couldn’t go on and not say anything.”
Lips parting like she’s about to say something, she slams them shut when my phone starts ringingagain.
“Fuck, sorry,” I mutter. “Hang on, let me see who that is really quick.”
“It’s fine,” she says, waving a hand in front of her. “Go.”
My heart slams into my rib cage when I pick up the phone and see the name flashing on the screen.
“Dad?”
“Where the hell have you been?” he barks through the line. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t near my phone.” My gut churns, knowing something has to be wrong for my dad, of all people, to call me. “Is everything okay?”
“There’s been an accident,” he explains. “Your mother is in the hospital.”
Twenty-Nine
Gemma
“Can I try a blackberry mimosa?” I ask our server, glancing up from the menu.
“Absolutely! Those are delicious, I think you’ll love it.”
“Oooh, I’ll try that too,” Grace squeaks, shimmying in her seat.
Looking between Georgia and Charley, the server asks, “What about you two? The same?”
Charley and Georgia look at one another before shrugging and laughing.
“May as well make it the same,” Georgia says.
“Coming right up, ladies.”
It’s a bright, warm, sunny Sunday morning, and the girls and I are at Taylor’s Grill for their monthly Sunday boozy brunch. We don’t make it here every month, but it’s always yummy and a great time when we do. The bartender from High Tide Tavern down the road teams up with theowner of the grill, and they come up with a fun and tasty selection of mimosas and over-the-top Bloody Marys, with a small menu of brunch items to eat. It’s bottomless, and that can get pretty dangerous, especially for a Sunday afternoon.
“Okay, so what happened?” Grace asks after the server comes back with our drinks and takes our order.
“I don’t know all the details, but his father called while I was over there last night, and I guess his mom had a fall and was in the hospital.”
“Shit,” Georgia breathes out. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know. Everett was understandably shaken up when he got off the phone, and we didn’t get to talk about much after that. He started packing while I got online and booked him a flight.”
I hated seeing how stressed out he was, and feeling like I couldn’t do anything.