Page 37 of Take Me (Cherry Blossom Lake #5)

“Probably. It’s been fun seeing what she comes up with for the wedding. She’s got her own sense of style.”

“Did she win the battle to have all the bridesmaids wear Doc Martens?”

“Nope.” I laugh and pick up my wineglass. “I might’ve preferred that, honestly. But at least Lucy’s letting us wear shorter heels with our dresses. Everyone except Harper—she gets the Doc Martens, since she’s the maid of honor.”

Dad chuckles through a mouthful of salad. “You were feisty like that. Always had a mind of your own. You remember that time you told Mom you wanted to try out for the wrestling team?”

“I do.” My throat clenches tight at the memory. “She found me a uniform at the thrift store, and we watched a bunch of online tutorials so we could practice our moves on the living room floor.”

“God, she was a great mom.” My father looks wistful, but happy. Like he’s cheered by the memory, rather than sad. “Wish we could have had her a little longer.”

“Me, too.” I reach over and squeeze his hand. “If I haven’t told you already, I’m glad you and Ruby are dating.”

He regards me over the rim of his water glass. “You’re sure it’s not too hard, watching me date somebody new?”

I consider the question, since he asked it.

“Maybe a little at first. Not now.” Not since I’ve seen how happy she makes him.

On Tuesday I dropped by and caught him practicing his wheelchair waltz skills.

When I got here this evening for dinner, he was whistling as he unloaded the dishwasher.

Whistling , when he used to just grumble over the task.

“I’m happy you’re happy,” I tell him now.

“Good.” He smiles. “Because I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

“How did you two get together, anyway?”

His smile turns a tiny bit sheepish. “Well, now, that’s a funny story.”

“You don’t have to share it if it’s personal.”

“No, no... I’ll tell you if you don’t mind hearing about your old man being a little randy.”

“I think I can deal.” I pick up my wineglass and give my best guess. “You hit on her at a bar?”

“Close.” He winks. “Went to a singles’ thing at Cal’s place. O’Brien’s hosts these speed dating nights the last Thursday of every month.”

“Zoe mentioned it.” Pretty sure it was her idea. “Ruby was there?”

“Ruby was there,” he confirms. “And I waited all evening for a chance to talk with her. As soon as she sat down, I gave her my best line. The one I’d been saving all night.”

“You have a line?” I don’t picture my dad as a guy who picks up women in bars.

“You betcha.” He grins. “I said, ‘You know what I can’t stand?’ Didn’t give her a chance to reply. Just cut right in with, ‘Let me rephrase—You know what? I can’t stand, but I’d sure love to take you on a date sometime. Anyplace you’d like to go, as long as it’s wheelchair accessible.’”

I laugh as I picture my dad saying that. “Let me guess—she was charmed.”

“Yep.” He winks. “Turns out she likes a man with a sense of humor. Kinda like my daughter.”

He adds that last part like an afterthought, and I know he means Mason. For the past several days, I’ve been dodging the subject with Dad. Might as well keep dodging. “What did she say to that?”

“She told me she liked how I roll. Then she winked and said, ‘pun intended,’ which I thought was clever. So I followed up and told her I’m really into roll play, which made her laugh again.”

“Did she agree to go out with you right away?”

“Oh, she made me work for it. She’s a spicy one. You know how some people get weird and uncomfortable when they’re talking to a guy in a wheelchair?”

“Yeah.” If I had a nickel for every stranger who flat-out avoided him, rather than risking awkward conversation, I’d have a whole lot of nickels. “People get nervous they’ll stare at your legs or say the wrong thing or ask the wrong question.”

“Ruby’s not like that.” He seems tickled by it. “She looked me right in the eyes and said, ‘Can you feel your legs at all?’ And you know me, I always appreciate the blunt questions. I said, ‘No, ma’am. But mine was an incomplete spinal cord injury, so I do have sensation in some spots. ’”

I have a hunch I know where this is going. “What did she say to that?”

“She got kinda flirty and leaned in close. She asked, ‘What spots are those?’ And I leaned in, too, gave her a suggestive smile, and said, ‘Well, ma’am—I might not be able to feel my legs, but I can feel what’s between ’em just fine.”

“You did not!” I know he did. That’s so my dad. “How did she react to that?”

“She laughed and pushed out from the table. Tugged up her skirt just a little and crossed her legs, letting me get a good look at ’em. Ruby’s got one helluva set of stems on her.”

“I believe it.” Zoe and Cass used to complain that their mother was a bit of a sexpot. She’s mellowed a little, and her daughters decided it wasn’t so bad to have a mom they could talk to about anything. Literally anything .

“Anyway, she’s flashing those gams, giving me an eyeful.” My father pretends to fan himself. “Then she leans in again and whispers, ‘If you can’t feel your legs, would you like to feel mine?’” He grins as I burst into laughter. “We’ve been together ever since.”

“Oh my God, Dad—that’s amazing. She’s lucky to have you.”

“And I’m lucky to have her.” He sips from his water glass, meeting my eyes as he sets it down. “Would it bother you if I said I’m in love with Ruby?”

“It wouldn’t.” I check in with myself to make sure. “I’d be ecstatic for you. Truly. I’m assuming she loves you back?”

“She says so, yep.” He grins. “It’s getting kinda serious.”

I miss my mom fiercely in that moment. But also, I’m thrilled for my dad. He deserves to find someone who makes him this happy. “It couldn’t have happened to a better guy.”

“Thanks.” He gives me a serious look. “Look, honey. I know we’ve been dancing around what happened between you and Mason. You and me, we’re not big on sharing our feelings.”

“Dad—”

“No, wait. Let me finish.” He spears a tomato, chewing a while like he’s collecting his thoughts. “Love means being brave sometimes. It means putting yourself out there, even if you might get hurt.”

“I can handle pain.” I once cut myself on a tailpipe and pushed through the workday with a rag tied around my arm. It needed six stitches, but I didn’t cry once.

“I know you’re tough,” my dad says. “And I know you can handle the hurt. But embarrassment, pity, shame—those things cut pretty deep.”

“I hate it,” I admit. “The worst thing in the world is having people feel sorry for you.”

Frowning, he sets down his fork. “Sweetheart, no. Is that what you think?”

“Of course. Don’t you?” I think of the pitying glances in grocery stores. The good ol’ boys shaking their heads, grateful they aren’t the guy stuck in a wheelchair as they help Dad grab cornflakes off a high shelf. “Being pitied by people?—”

“Sometimes just means they care.” He places his palms on the table. “Is it comfortable? Does it sting your pride sometimes? Damn right it does. But you know what’s worse?”

“What?” I can’t think of too many things.

“Having nobody care at all.”

“Dad.” I reach over and put a hand on his. “I care about you so damn much. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do, sweetheart. I love you, too, but that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if it’s a choice between sympathy and scorn—or worse, being invisible—I’ll take sympathy any day of the week.”

“I’m not sure I would.”

“I was a lot like you before all this.” He waves to the chair. “If I had to do something that terrified me, I’d go in armed with pride. But once I got older and wiser and more used to facing my demons, I figured out I had better weapons at hand.”

“Weapons?”

“Pride’s really more of a shield,” he says. “I’d rather be armed with courage and knowledge and wit.”

“I guess I can see that.” I think of my father flirting with Ruby Brooks. How did he know she wouldn’t just give him a pity date?

He didn’t. He didn’t know that at all.

“God, you’re brave.” I blurt it so quickly he laughs.

“It’s mostly just bluster. Hard to tell the difference sometimes.”

“Still.”

“Erika, honey.” His fingers move, shifting so his hand covers mine now.

“You and I, we’ve been through a lot together.

We’ve made it through because we have each other.

But the two of us couldn’t have done it alone.

We’ve had friends and neighbors who helped us.

You had the Spencer-Kings as your bonus family, and I had co-workers who rallied to support me.

Guys who made sure I had all the resources I needed to get the job done.

Does that make us weak or deserving of scorn? ”

“Of course not.”

My father’s expression radiates kindness.

“I can tell you right now that I’d rather have somebody see me with pity than not see me at all.

” He looks into my eyes and nods once. “And I’d rather muster the courage to shoot my shot than to never put myself out there.

Even if I fall short, I’ll wheel away knowing I tried. ”

“Fuck.” Looking down at my plate, I stare at the half-eaten pile of linguine. Have I been so afraid of being pitied that I haven’t allowed myself to be loved? Did I let myself get so full of pride that I forgot to make room for other emotions?

Mind reeling, I get up from the table and push in my chair. “Will you excuse me a minute?”

His smile shifts to a knowing smirk. “Gotta make a phone call, huh?”

“You hush.” He’s right, though. “I’ll be right back.”

I’m just going to check in with Mason. We’re walking together in the wedding tomorrow, so I should make sure things won’t feel awkward. Maybe I’ll text and catch up.

Or maybe a phone call is better. Hearing his voice—having Mason hear mine—it’s something I’ve missed more than anything. His baritone laugh, his good-natured rumble—they’ve served as the soundtrack for the happiest parts of my life.

Leaning back on my desk, I rehearse what I’ll say.

Hey, Mace. Sorry I’ve been out of touch. I needed some time to myself, but maybe we could talk now?

Or maybe I’ll put myself out there a little bit more. If my dad can be brave, so can I.

Look, I feel silly. I got scared and hid, but I’d like to meet up and talk now. Where do you see things going with us?

Or what if I lead with an apology? Dive in and tell him I’m sorry I’ve been such a chicken. That might be the best approach.

I’m dialing his number when it dawns on me Mason might be with family.

Lucy did say she’d be skipping a rehearsal in favor of spending the evening with her crew.

What if Mason’s playing board games with Harper or dishing up chowder with his mother and siblings?

He sees Parker and his dad so seldom, plus Noah flew in this morning.

If he’s with them right now, I won’t interrupt.

I toggle to the app that shows his location. It’s the first time I’ve checked it all week, and I feel a bit guilty doing it now. Do I have any right to know where he is when I’ve dodged him for days?

I debate for a minute, hearing my father’s voice in my ears.

I’d rather be armed with courage and knowledge and wit.

I’ve got the courage—I’m trying, anyway—and maybe the wit. Now I need knowledge in the form of finding out if he’s actually free to talk.

Tapping the locator icon, I zoom in on Mason. It takes me a second to pinpoint his spot. He’s on the northeast edge of town, not at Lucy’s or his place or even at Big One’s.

My stomach twists as I zoom in on the map. I know what I’m seeing before the business name comes into focus.

Cherry Blossom Lake Animal Clinic.

Annabelle. Mason’s with Annabelle.

My hand starts to shake as I set down the phone. It’s done. He’s with her, and that’s all there is to it. I gave it a shot, but there’s no sense in chasing a man who’s spoken for.

Swallowing hard, I stuff my phone in my pocket. I draw a few breaths to gather my strength. To make my heart stop aching like somebody squished it in a vise.

It’s better this way. Mason belongs to Annabelle. That’s all there is to it.

So why won’t my heart get the message?