Page 22 of His Last Shot

You Belong with Me

Rachel

“ M icah, what am I supposed to do? I can’t get a hold of Uncle Dexter, and I have to be there in”—I look at my watch—“like forty-five minutes.”

“I’m sorry, sis, but the food delivery is late, and who else is going to stay and inventory?”

Weighing my options, I pace the living room floor. “No, no, you’re right.”

My follow-up doctor’s appointment to discuss my latest blood work is today, and I’m a little anxious to hear the results. Every three months, I need to get my inflammatory markers checked, and lately, my RA has been angry, so I know the news isn’t going to be great.

And, of course, to add to my anxiety, my car is currently in the shop. And now, my one and only ride can’t take me. A Lyft isn't an option, since they won’t be here in time, and I’ll miss my appointment.

He pauses on the other end of the phone. “Now, I’m going to throw a harebrained idea out here, so don’t bite my head off, okay?”

“Don’t say it!” Because I know exactly who he is going to suggest.

“Oh, come on! You know he will drop whatever he is doing and come running. Let that man prove to you what you mean to him. Stop pushing him away. ”

Thanks to me having one too many a few nights ago, I told Micah everything about Johnny.

My tipsy, wagging tongue spilled all my secrets.

He says I’m nuts to not dive headfirst into a relationship with him.

But Micah doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand the deep-seated insecurities that gnaw at me or the constant fear that grips my heart.

Plus, Johnny has been keeping his distance. After rejecting him again in the kitchen, then me confessing about Drew, followed by a silent truck date, things have been awkward between us.

“What about Shelby? Is she available?”

“Nope. Parent-teacher conferences tonight.”

I collapse onto the couch, the cushions sinking beneath my weight as I surrender to my one and only option.

“Ugh! Fine … I’ll text Johnny.”

“Maybe you should give him a nice big hug and a kiss as a thank you.”

I pull the phone away from my ear, still talking. “Thanks for nothing. Gotta go … bye!”

Slamming the red button, I toss my phone onto the sofa and take a few minutes to regain my composure.

I should just cancel and catch up on The Bachelor . I’m already three episodes behind, and snuggling on this couch with my favorite blanket and some wine is a much better idea than the doctor’s.

But I can’t do that.

Micah’s right. I should text Johnny. He will help me. I know he will. But after everything, the possibility of him being done with me feels real, like a cold, sharp knife twisting in my gut.

I guess there is only one way to find out.

With a resounding sigh, I reach for my phone, open to messages, find his name, and type.

Me: Hey. Sorry to bother you. Are you busy right now?

Johnny: Leaving work and picking up Mallory from school. Why? Are you ok ?

Of course he asks if I’m okay. He cares. He always cares.

Me: Oh ok. You’re busy. Nevermind.

Johnny: What’s going on? Don’t make me beg because I will. On my knees … the whole nine yards.

What a sight that would be. My mouth goes dry as I bite my lower lip. Focus, Rachel!

Me: So I have a doctor appointment in like forty minutes and my car is in the shop. Micah can’t take me, I can’t get a hold of my uncle, and no ride share will be here in time. You are my last resort.

Johnny: Ouch. I’ll pretend that didn’t hurt.

Me: I hate to ask. But can you pick me up and take me?

Johnny: I’ll be there. Text me your address.

Johnny: And explain again why I’ve never been to your house yet?

There are so many reasons for that, Johnny . I chuckle as I text him my address.

Me: Thank you.

Johnny: No thanks necessary. Be there soon.

Nerves erupt in my gut as I take in what I’m wearing. Well, this won’t work. Just because there is a distance between us doesn’t mean I can’t bring it when I’m with him.

I race to my bedroom and replace my leggings with my favorite dark denim ripped jeans. Whipping off my Ohio State t-shirt onto my bed, I run to my closet and grab my favorite vintage Aerosmith t-shirt. The one that is V-necked and hugs my body like a second skin .

Heart pounding, I race to the mirror, turning side to side, checking every angle.

I smile. Yep, this is the one. With only a few minutes left, I hurriedly apply a little more mascara and blush, then finish with a quick swipe of eyeshadow and lip gloss.

Now I have to do something with my unwashed hair.

With no time to spare, I throw my hair into a super cute Pinterest-worthy high ponytail. One last once-over in the mirror, and I have to admit, I look decent. And kinda pretty.

I rub my sweaty palms over my jeans when the doorbell rings.

My nerves are shot as I grab my crossbody bag and throw it over my shoulder. Before I open the door, I inhale deeply to steady myself.

How this man affects me is unreal.

You’re only going to the doctor’s, Rachel. He’s basically your Lyft.

A hot Lyft driver, but whatever.

And who knows? We could get some dinner after. If he’s up for it because I need to apologize for everything. It’s a long shot, but worth a try.

With a wide smile, I swing the door open, and the balmy early June air smacks me in the face as my eyes immediately find him. Smiling and looking incredible, as usual.

And holding the hand of the cutest girl I have ever seen.

Not gonna lie. I’m mildly disappointed here.

From our texts, I assumed that he would have already dropped off Mallory at home before coming to get me. Wrongly assumed, because here she is. Holding her cousin’s hand, scared to death.

And now I feel terrible because I’m pretty sure I have messed up their routine.

My attention darts from him to Mallory. “Oh, hi.”

“Hey, Rachel. I didn’t have time to drop Mallory off. I hope that’s okay,” he says with a hint of remorse.

Dismissively, I wave my hand in the air. “No. No. It’s fine. I’m the one interrupting your day. ”

A tight knot forms in my gut as I realize I should introduce myself to Mallory, so I extend my hand. Are you supposed to shake hands with kids? I have no clue. “Hey, Mallory. My name is Rachel.”

Her eyes immediately avert away from mine as if looking at me makes her uncomfortable. She takes a step closer to Johnny, not taking my hand, and instead grabs his. “Hi,” she replies, the greeting soft and sweet.

I lower my hand. “I hope it’s okay with you that Cousin Johnny helps me out.”

She looks up at Johnny with a wide, concerned expression. “I don’t have to go into the doctor’s, do I?”

He rubs a soft, tender hand down her head, his voice sweeter and calmer than I have ever heard it. “No. Of course not. Remember, we talked about this in the truck.”

Huh. She’s shy. Plus, this tender, fatherly vibe Johnny is sporting right now … well, I like it very much.

Pretty sure my ovaries just exploded.

He turns his attention back to me. “You ready?”

“I am.” I’m not, but I slip on my sandals anyway and lock the door behind me.

“Mallory, go ahead and get in the truck, sweetie.” She takes off like a rocket.

As I follow, I’m startled by a huge, calloused hand seizing my wrist, gently pulling me back. His touch … still burns, still ignites me, still leaves me breathless.

I shift, and Johnny intently watches as Mallory hops in the truck, waiting until she is out of earshot. “She has autism.”

“Ah,” I reply. “Well, that explains the no eye contact and hand shake rejection.”

With slow and easy steps, he walks to the truck. I follow. “I just wanted you to know. She doesn’t like crowds or new unfamiliar places, so that’s why she looked so fearful about going into the doctor’s office. Also, she doesn’t like to be touched by people she doesn’t know.”

“It’s no problem. I get it. ”

“On days that Laura works at the hospital, Scott likes to leave work early to pick up Mallory, but today, he was stuck with one of the sub-contractors. There was a huge screw-up that he had to handle. So he asked me to get her.” He lets out an amused chuckle.

“Which Mallory loves because I always get her ice cream.”

Okay, it’s official, a new favorite Johnny feature has been unlocked. He’s obviously a huge family man. And, my Lord, does my heart explode with equal parts want and fear. “It’s fine, Johnny, really. I’m just grateful you could do this.”

One more thing that I find striking about this situation is … Johnny has never asked why I need to go to the doctor’s. He isn’t prying, giving me space and privacy. Which I appreciate more than he could ever know.

We reach the truck. He halts and inhales deeply as he skims me over from head to toe, a silent assessment passing between us. “You … you, um … you look really nice.” His eyes darken, and he swallows.

I internally high five myself at the choice to glam up because the way he is taking me in right now is telling me it was the right decision. Fire creeps up my neck at his compliment. “Thank you,” I mutter. Our eyes lock, unmoving, as something like a current in the ocean pulls us together.

He quickly glances away, not wanting to prolong the moment any longer than needed. More than anything, though, I want these little moments to last. But because of me, they are fleeting. I can’t be upset about it. He’s being a gentleman.

We make to his truck, and he opens the door for me. I climb in.

As soon as he settles in the driver’s seat, Mallory speaks up. “Your hair looks soft.”

Out of the blue, but okay. After what Johnny revealed about her, I go with it.

I swivel in my seat to take her in, noticing the way she’s concentrating on the squirrel outside her window. “Well, thank you.”

“I like to touch soft things,” she replies, her attention laser-focused on the squirrel .

Johnny gives her a stern warning. “Mallory, remember, boundaries.” She crosses her arms over her chest and pouts as she never breaks eye contact with the woodland creature.

“Soft things make me less nervous,” she admits so quietly I barely heard her.