Page 13 of Wildest Forever (Lovelock Bay #3)

“Don't give up on her, she's a good girl... I promise she will be the sunshine on your darkest days.”

A genuine smile pulls at my lips.

“I hope so,” I say softly before he disappears, and I am left alone in my room.

Sighing, I make a mental note of what I needed to get done, but first things first was getting the bedding off.

Stripping the sheets and cover, I drop it to the floor then tackle the pillowcases.

The mattress is pristine, and I wonder if anyone has actually slept in here.

Bending, I fold the sheets and pillowcases and stack them neatly on the side unit on the end wall.

Moving out of the room, I take the stairs and I’m straight out the door as I begin to unload the boxes.

Morgan is nowhere to be seen and Gerry is sitting in the living room, the radio on softly as Dolly Parton's voice fills the small space.

After six trips up and down the stairs, all the boxes are unloaded, and I am back out the door but not before telling Gerry where I was going.

Climbing into my truck, I call my ma and fill her in about the last few hours and I didn't want to tell her but I am already missing her and worrying if this was a huge mistake.

I had no idea just what I had got myself into but no backing down now.

I glance at the gold band wrapped around my finger and my chest aches.

I was married.

I had a wife.

And yet, I had never felt more alone than I did now.

Pulling into the parking lot, I slam the door shut and make my way into the department store and grab a cart on my way in.

Moving straight for the home section, I toss bedding, pillows and a new comforter in. I browse through the lamps before deciding on a light gray one with a white shade. Reaching for a couple of pictures, I slip them in the cart then finish it off with a small gray rug.

I needed something to cover the hardwood floor until I had some time to sand it and treat it.

The house was beautiful, set on land with amazing views, but it had fallen into disrepair and if I could do one thing in this marriage, I would fix her house up like it was brand new.

The wrap around porch needed work, it was rotten and I swear it'll fall before I get a chance to fix it. The porch deck is also in need of love, the steps cracked beneath my feet earlier and I know I need to make that a priority.

Paying the cashier, I move to the truck and load it up before I am pulling into the hardware store.

I grab what I need and just as the afternoon creeps in, I am pulling down the long and winding driveway.

Pushing the car into park, I grab the bits for my room first and walk straight upstairs but not before giving Gerry a quick glance as I pass and he holds his hand up.

I am petrified that I am going to find him dead.

I didn't need that.

Dumping it on the ground, I would get to work on that soon. I dropped my new bedding back to my mom's to wash and dry whilst I made a start on the mold wash in the corner of the room, then hooked out the nails of the windows.

Testing it out, it was a quick fix.

After an overhaul and new handles, the wooden framed windows were opening and closing as if they were brand new.

The soft hint of bleach filled the room so I opted for leaving the window slightly ajar to get some of the fresh air in.

Glancing at the time, it was just past four.

I needed to get a shift on before supper.

Moving back to the truck, I glance at Gerry who is now sitting at the small wooden table, Morgan has her back to me as she preps the food but I don't let her see me.

I am out that door like a flash and pulling the back of my truck down as I lay the new wood on the ground just before the steps.

Lifting my cap from my sweaty head, I push my damp, blond hair away from my face then twist my cap so it's backwards as I begin tearing the wood from the steps and shaking my head at the way it's bowed through the rot.

I made a mental note to get the house checked over because I am anxious that the wooden shack that stands won't be standing for much longer.

Tossing the old planks behind me, a thud echoing as I measure the new steps then make my way to Gerry's old work-shed to see if he had what I needed.

Probably should have checked if he had a chop saw, if not, I'll be sawing it over my leg and hoping I don't cut through my jeans.

Unbolting the rusty lock, I drag the dropped heavy wooden doors across the shingle and dust my hands off when I look at his work space.

I had no idea what Gerry did before he got ill, but it must have been some kind of craftsmanship.

I step a little further in and my eyes bounce around the room like a kid at Christmas sneaking down to see all the presents piled up.

Spotting some metal legs under a sheet, I think I have found what I am looking for. Lifting it and turning my head away so I don't inhale a lungful of dust, I smile when I see the saw.

“Bingo,” I say softly as I begin to drag it along the floor and closer to the door so I can get the light. I did check to see if any lights were connected but didn't seem that way.

Dragging the wire over to the socket by the entrance, I pray that it works otherwise I am going to have to run it from the house.

I wait a moment as I slip it on then turn and switch on the chop saw and relief swarms me when the saw kicks in then turn it off again as I march over to get the wood. Looking up at the house, I step over the gap and onto the porch as I hunt down a pencil, wood under my arm.

“Gerry,” I say as I look at him, staying in the hallway.

“Son?” he says and my heart twists.

“Where can I find a pencil?” and before he can even answer, Morgan, my wife, turns and drags a drawer open before pinching a pencil and walking over to me, holding it out for me to take, but not before her pretty greens sweep over my body then land on my eyes.

My lips twitch into a smile but she turns away, cheeks pink at being caught.

“Thank you, wife,” I say a little louder and I watch as Gerry laughs.

Slipping it behind my ear, I move back outside and re-measure the step, this time marking it where I needed to cut with the pencil then placing it back where it was as I walk across to the chop-saw, flicking it on and sawing it to length.

I don't even need to look up to know that she is standing at the kitchen window watching me.

I wouldn't want to give her the satisfaction of letting her know that I know.

Petty yes.

But she riled me up.

Switching the saw off, I pace back to the front of the house, kneeling on the dusty floor beneath me as I lay the first step in, nailing it in place before I measure the boxing in and repeating until they were done.

Standing up, I dust my hands off and place my hands on my hips as I admire my work. Sure, it needed to be stained and treated, but the whole deck needed it so may as well do it in one job.

I see her tanned boots before I hear her.

“Supper is ready,” she announces before turning her back on me and disappearing into the house.

Pushing my tongue into my cheek, I shake my head as I look towards the mountains and feel the annoyance flick against my skin.

I inhale heavily, puffing my cheeks before exhaling as I climb the new steps, smiling when they don't shift and step into the house, kicking off my boots.

I go to walk into the kitchen, but Morgan shakes her head before leading me towards a room at the back of the house, a four seater dining table sits in the middle of the room, all set for dinner.

“I'm just going to clean up,” my voice echoes around the room as I make my way back down the hallway and duck inside the small bathroom, washing my hands before splashing my face with cool water.

Shaking them off, I look at myself in the mirror.

I really did need a shave, but I was kind of digging the stubble and honestly, I might keep it.

.. plus my upper lip would soon be housing a moustache.

Drying my hands on the small hand towel, I pull the cord light and slip from the now dark bathroom and pace down towards the dinner table.

I see Gerry is sitting head of the table, Morgan to his right so I take the seat to his left. Dragging the chair out, I sit and before I can even take my hat off, she is walking behind me, flipping it off my head and I give myself a minute before I react.

“No hats at the table,” she snipes as she returns to the room with a casserole dish and places it in the center of the table.

“I would have removed my hat, but my ass had just met the seat...”

“Then take it off before,” she glares at me as she walks out the room again and I ball my fist, my eyes following her and I see Gerry raise his brows before rolling his eyes.

Next the green beans go down before she is out of the room again.

“Is there an escape clause in this contract, like fourteen days to change your mind kind of thing,” and that gets Gerry laughing loudly as she bangs the dish of mashed potatoes down.

“Unfortunately, not,” he rubs his lips together.

“I was brought up in a family with strict manners.” I say in a levelled tone.

“No hats at the table, cowboy hats hung on the back of your door when you were finished work, boots off and on the mat, wash up for dinner, table set, and glasses filled...” my eyes skate across the table to see the three glasses empty, “and then we say grace.

Take this as a threat or a warning, don't ever treat me like that again.” My voice is sharp, and I watch as her face falls.

“Like I said earlier,” I drag the napkin from my plate and lay it over my lap, “neither of us want this clearly, but we made a promise... and I intend on keeping my end of that promise,” I drop my head for a moment before my hands are palm up on the table. “Grace?”

She doesn't mutter a word as her hand sits in mine, her other in Gerry's and I close my hand around the both of them.

“That was delicious,” I wipe my mouth with my napkin then place it on the plate. “Thank you, Morgan,” I softly bob my head in her direction, and she meets it with her own.

“Thank you for fixing the step,” Gerry says as he shuffles in his seat.

“Not a problem,” I smile at him and Morgan just sits there staring at me and I swear if looks could kill I would be laying flatlined on the table.

“Morgan,” Gerry snaps and her eyes drag to her granddad's.

“Yes?” her arms cross in front of her chest causing a small cleavage and my stomach knots.

I should not be looking at her like this.

“I think you owe Rivera a thank you,” he lets his chin fall as his brows furrow in his forehead and she swings her face back in my direction.

“Thank you,” and there is not an inch of sincerity in her tone.

“You're welcome, Sunflower.” I watch the way her eyes soften at the name I used a month ago at Randy's.

Silence falls over the table, so I take that as my cue to leave.

“Excuse me,” I mutter softly as I push back on my chair before standing and reaching for the empty dishes.

I can see she wants to say something, but she pouts her lips as I leave the room and place the dishes in the sink.

I return and grab the serving dishes and place them on the work top. Turning, I see her standing there, leant up against the door frame.

“I'll wash that up when I come back down, I need a shower,” I flash her a toothy grin, “then I’ve got to swing over my mom's if you want to come with?” I offer but she shakes her head before turning her back on me and disappearing.

“Suit yourself,” I say to the empty room before I am climbing the stairs, peeling my tee from my body as I step into my room and grumble when I see the boxes still sitting there along with the new bits I brought.

Scrubbing my face with my left hand, the coolness of the metal band on my skin has me sighing.

It's only seven, a few hours in here and it'll be good as new.

Unbuttoning my jeans, I grab my towel and toiletries bag from one of the boxes and take myself to the bathroom. Lifting my hand, I knock on the closed door before I twist the knob and let myself in, locking it behind me.

Removing the towel that is already sitting on the towel rail, I hang mine over it and place my hand on the rail, it's lukewarm. Folding the other towel up and placing it on the shelf, I unload my bag and grab what I need.

Not that the room was cold, but nothing beats a warm towel after a shower.

Pushing my jeans down, I discard them along with my boxers before twisting the stiff shower, a loud bang echoes around the small room as the water kicks in.

Holding my hand under the water, it takes about five minutes for the water to warm and when it has, I step under and groan as the hard water hits my skin.

Lathering myself up, I clean myself before washing my hair. Letting my head tip back, I give myself a minute more before I step out and am back faced with the angry blonde-haired woman I married.

She is trying to throw down her dominance.

Bit like when a dog pees up a tree, marking his territory.

I'm the tree, covered in dog pee.

Shutting the water off, it bangs again and I pull back the wet shower curtain as I reach for my towel, wrapping it around my body.

Brushing my teeth, I bend for my dirty clothes before spitting in the sink and placing my brush back in my bag.

That would be a tomorrow job.

I'm not back to work until Monday so I have another full day of sorting out the house that I am terrified is going to fall down around us, but I need to have faith.

It's lasted this long.

Twisting the handle, I pad out into the hallway, feet still wet as I move down the hardwood floor and towards my bedroom when I see her standing at the top of the stairs, eyes trailing up and down my wet torso.

I wasn't overly toned, but I had definition. Arms were more of a statement than my torso. I watch as her eyes graze down to my bullet wound, they narrow slightly before she looks at my face, her hand slipping into the back of her jeans and I know she is desperate to ask but doesn't want to.

“I was shot,” I say as if it is no big deal, but in reality, it was a fucking huge deal.

Still wake up some nights screaming.

Her eyes widen.

“Yeah.” I nod then begin to walk past her and I don't look back.

I could have been an asshole and not uttered a word.

But I was brought up better than that.

Slamming my bedroom door, I get myself ready before I am back in my truck and driving towards my mom's.

Warmth radiates around my body as I step into the bright, large, hallway and I seek my mom out instantly.

She is sitting in my dad's chair in the lounge, knitting a blanket. A pastel rainbow length of woven wool is stretched out in front of her and I know how desperate she has been to get it finished before baby Rivera arrives.

“Hey Ma,” I smile at her, leaning in and giving her a kiss.

“Hey sunshine boy,” she smiles wide as I take my seat opposite her and I fall into easy conversation, telling her all about my day.