Page 5 of It’s Only Love

Mike

Seven Years Earlier

I’ve barely made it to my truck to head into work when Mom comes sprinting after me, the gravel crunching under her tennis shoes.

“Michael! You forgot your lunch.” When she reaches me at the end of the driveway, she’s panting, and a few strands of dark brown hair have escaped her high bun, spilling into her face.

Her equally brown eyes regard me with amusement, a few fine lines adorning the skin around them.

She shakes her head at me, smiling. “You always forget something, sweetie. Head in the clouds as always, Michael.” She hands me the metal lunchbox that she got for me the day I officially started working for Verdant Visions Landscaping, along with the sage-green Stanley Classic thermos that belonged to Dad.

I groan, accepting the lunchbox and the thermos. “You’re the only one who calls me Michael, Mom. ”

She frowns at me as she crosses her arms in front of her chest, a defiant look in her eyes. “Well, I happen to like the name Michael. It was your grandfather’s name and your—”

“Great-grandfather’s name before that,” I finish for her, and we both laugh.

Fuck, it’s good to hear Mom laugh like that again.

The sound had been absent from our house for so long after Dad died, and I often wondered if she would ever laugh again.

I can’t exactly remember when she started coming back to me.

It was all a blur back then. At the time, the Holbrooks were the only constant in my life.

I do remember the first time she laughed, though.

Since Mom was slowly feeling better, Aaron had started coming over to my place again.

He had Dennis in tow, and they were already bickering, their usual MO, when I let them in.

Aaron was trying to dodge Dennis’ attempts at stealing the Tupperware box from his grasp, the smell of freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies wafting through the lid.

Mom was in the kitchen making tea when we entered, the scent of Earl Grey and jasmine filling the room.

As soon as Aaron removed the lid from the box and placed the cookies on a plate on the counter, Dennis was there like a persistent mosquito, buzzing around him.

I swear, the cookies barely met the plate before he instantly inhaled one, and then grabbed another.

That was when I heard it, starting soft and low at first, but so distinctively hers—Mom’s laughter.

She uncrosses her arms, reaching out with her hand, brushing her fingers through my bangs. “I wish you didn’t have to go. It’s Saturday.”

I shrug. “I know, Mom, but I guess Mrs. Lennox’s old fir didn’t get the memo.” Jon, Aaron’s dad and my boss, called last night to say that the old fir finally decided that enough was enough and tipped over, taking a part of Mrs. Lennox’s garden shed with it.

“I know, I know.” She smiles at me, ruffling my hair.

“My reliable son to the rescue.” Something dark flashes through her eyes, and I instantly recognize it as regret.

I know she still feels guilty about her breakdown following Dad’s death.

That she checked out on life and me. I don’t blame her, though.

Not one bit. I can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to love someone as much as my mom loved my dad, only to lose them in the blink of an eye.

Shit, they’d been high school sweethearts, marrying right after graduation, and then one year later, I came along.

They grew up together, expecting to grow old together, too.

“I just wish you’d go out more, like other kids your age. Have some fun.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Mom.” Besides, Aaron has gone off to college. There aren’t any other guys to hang out with other than Dennis.

I tip my head toward the sky because we’ve had this conversation more times than I can remember.

My gaze catches the red clay-tile roof of our white-painted house.

A few tiles that had loosened and blown off during a January storm are still missing.

It’s April now. I try to keep up as best I can with stuff around the house, but work has been busy lately, and it’s slipped my mind.

“The roof still needs fixing.” I nod toward our house.

The house I was born in. My grandfather’s house, which he left to my dad.

Mom never made it to the hospital when I came three weeks early on a cold December night eighteen years ago.

On days like today, when I’m reminded that Dad isn’t around anymore to fix these things, I feel cheated.

I should’ve had more time with him. Now I just have his old thermos and some missing tiles to remind me he’s gone and never coming back.

Mom turns, squinting at the morning sun as she takes in our house.

“I’ll ask Mr. Whitaker to come by. People keep telling me I should just sell it.

” A dull pain grows in my chest at the thought of Mom selling the place, but before I can object, she finishes for me.

“But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to part with this house.

” She sighs wistfully, sweeping a wayward lock of hair out of her eyes.

“Every good thing that ever happened to me happened in this house. ”

“I can fix it.” I swallow, my fists clenching around the handle on the lunchbox and the thermos.

“I know you can, my Mr. Fix-It. But you don’t have to.

You’ve got enough on your plate already, and I can afford to pay Mr. Whitaker just fine.

” She’s referring to the insurance money from the settlement with the driver of the other car.

Although it’s nothing major, it’s still a nice chunk of money, and I know she’s keeping it in case I want to go away to school one day, just like Aaron has. But I won’t.

I wasn’t surprised when Aaron told me he was going away to school.

He’d wanted to study law since his early teens, so I always figured that he would leave Cannon Beach after graduation.

He’s always been super smart. Dennis is, too.

I was never book-smart. There’s not a single academic bone in my body.

I’m smart about other things, though. Things that involve your hands, like knowing what kind of stone Mr. DiAngelo wants in his driveway or the type of wood that the Caruthers want for their pergola.

So, when Jon asked me if I wanted a full-time position at the company, I didn’t hesitate to take it.

It made sense. I’d already been working for him all the way through high school during school breaks, anyway.

I love my job. It’s something I look forward to every morning when my alarm goes off. I can be around people without really being around them, if that makes sense. And I can be close to Mom and be here whenever she needs me.

Placing my lunchbox and thermos on the roof of my truck, I open the driver’s side door.

“Don’t be cross with me, Michael.” Mom places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it.

I sigh, my shoulders relaxing under her touch. “I’m not cross, Mom.”

“I just worry about you. That’s all. ”

“You don’t have to.”

“Well, I’m your mom, so it’s kinda in my job description.” She chuckles, patting my shoulder.

I turn around and rest my back against the truck, raising an eyebrow at her.

I know what’s coming, so I take a deep breath to steady myself.

“How are you ever gonna meet a nice young girl when you work all the time? How are you gonna get a girlfriend when you never go anywhere beyond this old town?”

I offer her the same reply that I do every time she starts her Mom Inquisition.

“Maybe I don’t want a girlfriend, Mom. Have you ever thought of that?

I don’t have time for a relationship right now, and I’m good with that.

” I had one girlfriend back in high school, and only because everyone else was dating.

It just seemed easier to date instead of dealing with a whole lot of questions I didn’t have the answer to.

The truth is, I’ve never wanted a girlfriend.

When Aaron and the other guys in our group of friends would notice stuff like Daniella Riley growing a pair of boobs over the summer break or would moan over Samantha Dudley showing off her tanned stomach in those skimpy tops of hers, I would pretend to be into it, too.

“It’s not either or, sweetie. You can have both, you know.

” Then she brightens, excitement dancing in her eyes.

“You remember Judith Warner, right? From work?” I roll my eyes.

Oh, I remember Judith Warner, all right.

She’s the town gossip, and the library where she works with Mom is Gossip Central of Cannon Beach.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Michael Tanner,” Mom scolds me fondly.

“Judith is one of the kindest souls I know.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I grin because Judith Warner is many things, but kind isn’t exactly the first thing that comes to mind. Obnoxious busybody and overbearing know-it-all, yes. But kind? Nah. But Mom seems to like her .

“Well, Judith’s niece, Brenda, is newly single! You remember her, don’t you? She was a year behind you and is a senior now.” Mom beams. I have zero clue who Brenda is, but I just nod because it’s a lot easier. “I’m sure I could get her number for you.”

“Mom, I’m sure Brenda is a nice girl, but I told you I don’t have time.” Where is a mid-size hole in the ground that I can crawl into? Why is there never a hole when you need one? Shit, that sounds way too weird for a Saturday morning. Being set up with a girl you don’t even know is the worst.

She tilts her head, a challenging glimmer in her brown eyes.

“Yet you seem to find the time for Dennis.” I just shrug because, yeah, I hang out with Dennis from time to time.

All the time, if I’m being honest. “You know, just because Aaron went off to school, doesn’t mean you have to hang out with his little brother so much. ”