Page 69 of Truly Forever
After Dr. Mead’s office closes, I walk the four blocks to the high school and find my car where Jacob parked it after dropping me off at the diner early this morning. He has a game this evening and then will spend the night with a childhood friend and his family. Tomorrow, they’ll travel to the sister’s volleyball tournament.
The car hesitates, clicking once, then going completely silent when I turn the key in the ignition. I hold my breath, try again, and it roars to life. Yes, roars. For a small car, the racket is huge.
Back to Charlie’s I go for my Friday night shift. The parking lot is unusually empty, and there’s a work truck and a plumbing company’s van backed to the front door. Charlie sits in the first booth next to the cash register, his gray hair hand-tossed. A cigarette dangles from his thin lips. “What are you doing here?”
I catch my purse as it slides off my shoulder. “Working?” I tack a question onto the word as my gaze sweeps the empty dining room.
He grunts. “Told you I had repairs scheduled for the weekend.”
“Yes, but you said starting tomorrow.”
“Nope. Tonight. You should listen more carefully.”
Charlie’s norm is gruff and crotchety, but he’s in rare form today. I suppose watching a weekend of revenue go down the drain, all while listening to mind-numbing pounding coming from a beloved kitchen, would make any business owner sour.
As I drive home, the yawns won’t quit. No, not home. John’s home. His beautiful, custom-built house in the country, along a beautiful, winding river.
The sun is making its final dip below the pink horizon when I turn onto his street. As I set the car in park in front of the garage, a thought sends my heart into a leap.Jacob’s game!I’ve missed every single one this fall, and only a handful remain.
Digging the key John gave me from the zippered pocket in my purse, I nearly dance up the sidewalk. I have just enough time to shower and dress in something football appropriate.
Chapter 15
John
Friday traffic is the absolute worst. Passing the city-limit sign, I breathe the first full, clear breath since pulling out of the office parking lot over an hour ago. The setting sun put on a show tonight, easing the pain of the commute.
Sunset? Putting on a show? What is this nonsense?
I don’t think about sunsets. I think about work problems and, once in a while, I wonder if my son will ever let me into his life for real. If I’ll ever truly know my grandchild. That’s what I think about.
Sunsets? Nope.
Hollie?
Yes, I think about her, too, but that’s a brand new development.
Should I turn around and have dinner at the diner? Say hello? I can save the chicken I bought at the store for another night.
Wouldn’t hurt to check on her. My fingers have itched to tap out a text and make sure she’s safe pretty much since I left her at five this morning, standing there in my kitchen with sleep-tousled hair while I reviewed instructions for the security system. I jumbled my words, and she covered a sputter of laughter with her palm, an unexpected and airy sound that had me grinning before my first sip of coffee.Take that, Blakely.
The sight of her could do my evening good, too. Coming up on the Main Street exit, I lay my finger on the turn signal—wait. Uh-uh. Hollie does not need me lurking, watching while she does her job.You’re not a freaking stalker, Chavez.
The atrocious hatchback claims a spot in my driveway when I pull up several minutes later. Jacob? Hollie has work, and I thought the kid had a game.
My stomach begins a slow churn on my way up the sidewalk. Every outdoor light blares, the way I left them before dawn. I want Hollie safe. My eyes scan the yard to the limits of the floodlights. What if someone was waiting when she arrived? Or Jacob. He’s only a kid, for crying out loud.
“Hollie!” I call, even as I swing the door in.
“Hey.” Her eyes round at my bullish entrance. She’s next to the sofa, although I don’t think she’s been sitting.
The hard lump in my chest dissolves at the sight of her not only alive and well but also gorgeous. That part threatens the breath in my lungs. The tight ponytail she usually wears has surrendered to curls sliding loosely along her shoulder when she tilts her chin. Her makeup is perfect and obviously fresh. Her incredible, long legs are encased in fitted jeans, and she’s wearing a royal blue Chandor High jersey with long white sleeves poking from underneath.
The woman is tough to look at. If she were mine? Now that would be different. I could feast my eyes and not feel like a creep.
I clear my throat and set my keys on the end of the bar. “I thought you had to work?”
“I did, too, but Charlie’s got major plumbing repairs underway. He forgot to inform me they started tonight.”