Page 16 of A Lifetime of Afters
His breath in my hair.
Awareness flooded through me, and I edged away from him.
“Don’t,” he warned softly. “Don’t freak out.”
“I’m not,” I retorted. “You’ve made it abundantly clear how you feel about me-”
His fingers tightened around my wrist and his other hand slapped down on the counter on the other side of my hip. His mouth to my ear, he pressed his chest against my back and whispered fiercely, “I haven’t madeanythingclear. I can’t eventhinkclearly.”
Releasing my wrist, he pushed off the counter with a growl and stomped out of the kitchen. Thirty seconds later, the front door slammed shut as he thundered out into the yard.
I stood, eyes wide, my insides quivering with shock and awareness. The hair on my arms stood up as the knowledge of what sizzled between us raced down my spine. Yearning spiraled low as my head fell back. “Oh, God…”
A sharp sting brought my attention back to my injured hand and I put it back under the water, twisting my neck to see him through the window as he escaped down the driveway in the rapidly failing light.
My chest expanded with a deep, shuddering breath. For the second time that day, I’d driven him from his kitchen.
I had to make it right.
I found his first aid kit tucked underneath the sink in the main bathroom. Stocked with all manner of bandages and gels, I quickly coated the burn with aloe vera and bandaged my hand. A latex glove protected it further.
Then I raided his refrigerator. Unsurprisingly, that, too, was stocked.
Traditionally, on November 1st, the fervor with which our mothers tackled Hallowe’en made way for a renewed mission to pursue healthy eating. Just as we celebrated Hallowe’en together, on November 1st we kicked off the ‘Great Vegetarian Bake-off’, a full month of vegetarian eating and meal-planning.
Meeting when Hawk and my older brother Max were babies, my mom and Lou recognized in one another a kindred spirit. A sister of the soul. And so began a lifelong friendship, their lives tightly intertwined, as they raised their families, built their marriages, celebrated their victories, and fought their battles. Together until my mother lost her battle. My mother’s death seven years ago blew a crater-sized hole in both families.
My dad never fully recovered.
I’d wager Hawk’s mom was the same.
I wiped a stray tear from my cheek and carried on making the soup my mother always made on this day.
I hated to cry, especially in front of people, but tears shed for my mother didn’t count. I’d heard a Bible verse once that God collects our tears in a bottle. Those tears I shed for my mother were a kind of celestial email. I trusted God would give her the message that I loved her.
My heart rate quickened as the front door opened and Hawk’s boots hit the floor. Chin up, facing the doorway, I waited for him.
Sock feet, white tee, flannel discarded, his worn jeans slung low at his hips, he rounded the corner with his hands in the air. “I want to call a truce.”
Mothertrucker.
He looked delicious.
“Agreed,” I nodded jerkily as I attempted to tuck my goggling eyes back in my head.
He jerked to a stop, seemingly unprepared for my answer. “Agreed?”
“Yes,” I nodded firmly once again.Change the subject. Change the subject!“I’m making my mother’s soup for dinner.”
A wide smile chased the frown from his gorgeous face. “The smell hit me from outside. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.” He breathed deep, then murmured low. “That brings back memories. All of them good.”
I turned back to the stove and gave it another quick stir then turned off the burner. Cracking the oven door, the smell of fresh bread wafted out.
“You made my mom’s cheesy bread?” he asked, his eyes closed as he breathed in the yeasty goodness.
“I did. I always make this meal the day after Hallowe’en,” I admitted. “It makes me feel closer to both of them.”
“I know you still talk to Harley. You two were always thick as thieves. But do you still talk to my mom?”
