Page 49

Then it happens, and I don’t know why. It’s not like me to burst into tears. It’s not like me to wear my worries on my sleeve, either. For years I’ve been strong and silent, wading through seas of stress and depression that come along, always coming out on top. Or at least, coming out alive.

But with my fingers tugging soft tendrils of his hair, and his soft hushes of comfort in my ear, I cry against him, deep and unrelenting sobs. After a minute, I’m scooped up in his arms, and he’s telling Dolores and Chrissy that we’re taking a break out back.

No one’s here anymore except for an elderly man eating rhubarb pie in the corner.

Dolores expresses concern, strokes her fingers down my back as Dean carries me out, the swish of the back door telling me we’re outside.

Then cool night air eats at my bare calves as Dean settles me onto his lap after he sits on the curb.

“I’m sorry for being so dramatic,” I sniffle, wiping at my wet eyes as I struggle to take him in.

Moonlight bathes us, and crickets chirp.

I glance to the street and catch a glimpse of a blue sedan trudging along, one headlight broken.

I look up at Dean, the epicenter of calm and collected, and my chest squeezes again, warm and fuzzy.

“I’m sorry for bursting into a fit of tears like that. ”

He strokes big fingers through my hair, his legs solid beneath me.

“Don’t apologize, just tell me what’s got you so upset.

” The concern that lines his features—the tight set of his jaw, the way he presses his lips into a thin line, the pinch of focus in his brows—has me lifting up, sealing my mouth to his.

He gives me a warm, inviting kiss, one that promises pleasure and so much more. But he also leans back, dragging his thumb along my bottom lip as he asks, “What’s going on, mama?”

My ovaries throb at the way he proudly and affectionately calls me mama.

“My ex—Troy. He called today while I was on lunch. He told me he’s in town, he’s gonna manage Tanner’s football career after the Bruisers.

Said…” I trail off, blinking up at Dean as I struggle to remember all of Troy’s heinous words, hi s empty promises, his vague threats.

“I don’t… I don’t remember everything.” I bite my lip.

“Jackie was there. I had Troy on speakerphone so she could hear him, too.”

“That was smart, letting Jackie hear, too,” Dean soothes, his arms holding me tight. “Did he say where he’s staying or how long he’ll be in Bluebell? Do you really think he’s… coming to the house for Tanner?”

I shake my head, suddenly feeling hot and sick from thinking about this.

“He didn’t say where he’s staying, I don’t know.

” Tears line my eyes again. “I don’t want him in Bluebell.

He isn’t welcome. The boys—I’m not just saying that because of me,” I tell Dean.

“The boys don’t want him back in their lives, either.

I’m not trying to keep them from reconciling. They just… don’t care to reconcile.”

“I believe you,” Dean says, telling me three words that I needed to hear more than I’ve ever realized. “I believe they don’t want to see him, I believe you,” he says again, making me feel more validated and understood than anyone ever has.

Dean strokes my hair, then touches my cheek tenderly before kissing the tip of my nose, then my lips.

“I know you’re not comfortable coming to stay at my place with the boys, and I am not here to argue with your reasons.

But I’d like you to know that I’d feel a lot better if I could stay at your place until we know he’s not gonna turn up.

” Dean’s eyes hover on mine, intensity swirling in onyx clouds near his pupils.

“I can’t rest, I can’t eat, I can’t function, Clara June, not knowing if you and the boys are safe or not. ”

“I… I don’t want to alarm them, you know?

But then again, I’d rather alarm them for nothing and have them on high alert than try to protect them from this reality and end up getting them…

hurt,” I admit, reasoning it out loud. Hurt.

The idea that Troy would come back and do damage makes my stomach roil .

“Let me talk to the boys tomorrow morning, before school, and I’ll let you know. I can’t talk to them about it tonight because by the time I get home, it’ll be too late. Archie will be asleep and likely Tanner, too.”

Dean nods his head, knocking his hat back to kiss me, long and deep. “Would it be alright if I stop by the house tonight, while you’re finishing up, and just check on things?”

I almost cry again at his offer. I nod, and swallow down the lump of emotion. “That would be nice.”

I flip the sixth egg and add pepper. “Boys, come eat! We only have ten minutes!”

Rawley is the first to appear, wearing wrinkled jeans and white t-shirt. I point my spatula at him. “Hey, clean clothes. Did you do some laundry last night?”

He shakes his head, jerking open the fridge door, partially used bottles of salad dressing and jars of olives clanging together. He takes out the orange juice and begins drinking it straight from the plastic gallon jug.

“Get a glass,” I tell him, turning off the burner.

He sits at the table. “Dean came by last night, just to see what’s up. He helped Tanner finish his Revolutionary War paper, and he brought me this.” Rawley leans, giving himself access to his pocket, and produces a small… something.

I sit at the table, bringing the pan of eggs with me, resting it on a trivet. I plate the eggs as I eye the robotic, metallic looking device in Rawley’s hand. “What the hell is that?”

He laughs. “It’s a small, handheld, V8 engine model. It can be built, taken apart, and rebuilt a ton of times.” His smile is small but proud. “I built it last night. It was just parts when he gave it to me.”

I kiss Archie’s cheek as he yawns into the kitchen, taking the seat next to me. “That’s awesome, Rawley. Wow, how long did it take you?”

He yawns. “Two hours. I stayed up too late. But damn, it was just so cool getting to build something and have it work.” He sticks a wire into a slot on the device, and it starts up, purring like a baby kitten. He pulls the wire out, and it shuts off. “Cool, right?”

I nod. “Very cool.”

“He brought me a V6 and a 4 cylinder to practice with, too. Said his friend Atticus practiced with those when he was learning, too.” Rawley starts to eat his eggs, but never takes his eyes off the small motor on the table.

Doing something nice for me? Good. Doing something thoughtful and sweet for my boy? Mentally, I’m already pregnant.

“I missed him,” Archie sighs, shoving a bite of egg into his mouth, groaning, “Stupid baby bedtime.”

“You don’t have a baby bedtime, Archie,” I remind him. “You usually go to bed on your own before bedtime, honey.”

“He’s just pissed off that Dean-o came by and he was sleeping,” Tanner says, entering the room in sweat pants with no shirt.

“We have six minutes before we have to go. Put a shirt on,” Rawley says to him. Tanner kisses my cheek, but then disappears into the laundry room, the dryer door opening with a thud. He returns in a white t-shirt, and sits down to eat his eggs.

“So guys, speaking of Dean.” My pulse dances in my throat, and the back of my neck grows damp with sweat. Archie doesn’t look up because he’s lined his mouth up with the plate, slurping the rest of his fried egg into his mouth. Rawley’s focused on me, and Tanner is, too.

“If he came over here at night and slept on the couch for a while, would that be totally weird?”

Tanner snorts. “Yeah, that’d be weird as hell.” He strokes a hand through his hair, considering. “But cool. I mean, Coach Dean is cool. Plus I know you guys are like, dating or whatever."

I shake my head, then nod, confusing them.

“Well, yes, we are… dating," I say, hating that I go flush in front of them at the admission, but hell, I’m still so excited that I am dating Dean McAllister. “But it’s not because of that. I mean, if he were staying here because things with us were progressing, he’d sleep…

” Oh Jesus, why did I think this would be easy?

I clear my throat. “He’d stay in my room with me, I mean, if that’s why he was staying over. ”

Tanner looks confused. Rawley looks suspicious.

“So why would he be crashing here if it’s not because you guys are… getting serious?” He pauses, realizing then that he isn’t sure of that second question, and wants an answer. “Are you guys getting serious?”

I lick my lips and level my gaze. “Yes.”

He nods, and I look between the three of them. “How do you guys feel about that?”

Tanner takes the jug of juice from his brother and takes a long drink. “That’s cool. Coach is a good guy.”

“It wouldn’t alter any of your football stuff,” I say, not even really sure what I’m saying or promising, but whatever the message is, Tanner gets it. He scoffs.

“I know that. Coach Dean isn’t like that. But anyway, I could see you guys like… married.”

I look at Archie, ignoring the way Tanner’s vision for us makes my heart race. “Would it be okay with you if Coach Dean stayed here for a while? Maybe a week? Two? I don’t know for how long.”

Archie wiggles his fingers, and Tanner passes him the jug. “I love Coach Dean,” Archie says, then starts chugging orange juice while three clean, empty glasses sit in front of us.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Rawley says, still fingering parts of his pocket motor. “If it’s not about you two, why would he be staying here?”

He’s fumigating his house.

He’s rented his place out like an Airbnb.

He’s been hearing noises and is frightened to be alone.

He’s…

None of those are right. Because none of those reasons are the truth.

I clear my throat and stare into the swirling dark surface of my coffee. “Troy called me. Twice. He’s back and he’s expressed his desire to stay in Bluebell to… manage Tanner’s football career.”

Silence sweeps the table. Archie, unaware and oblivious to the severity of this talk, slips out of his seat and runs into the backyard, eager to pick a peach to take to school. I feel relieved that he’s outback, because this talk is really meant for the older boys.

“Tanner’s in high school. He doesn’t have a football career,” Rawley says, his voice already creeping higher, irritation and pain wiggling in .

Tanner folds his arms over his chest. “He saw the article in the paper?”

I shrug. “One of them, maybe, yeah. I don’t know.”

“So he’s been here the whole time? He must have been if he saw the papers,” Tanner says, anger throttling his normally sweet tone. I hate seeing my boys angry and rattled, because it goes against who they are at the core.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe someone told him? I don’t know, I just… I don’t know, guys.”

“We don’t want him back,” Rawley says flatly.

“No, we don’t,” Tanner agrees.

I look between them, and Rawley’s face softens. “That’s why you want Dean here? In case Troy shows up?”

I nod. “It was his idea.”

Tanner’s voice is a bit quieter when he asks, “Do you and Dean think Troy’s gonna show up and try to hurt us?”

I shake my head staunchly, because I don’t want my boys to worry.

“No, no way. I don’t think Troy would try to physically hurt anyone.

” I hope not. I pray not. “But he could try to make a scene, and I think the scene he’d make would be a lot easier to control if he were facing Dean and not me. You know?”

“I think it’s a smart idea,” Rawley says. “Dean’s cool, anyway. It’s cool of him to offer.”

Tanner looks at me.

“Would it be okay with you?”

He nods, but circles back to Troy. “He should’ve stayed gone.”

I nod. “I know.”

That night, Dean comes over. He barbecues chicken on my grill while I’m at work, and when I come home, he and the boys are eating a whole delicious dinner.

Rawley has another mini engine and all its parts spread across the table, and Dean eats chicken as he points with his pinky at a part on the table.

Tanner stands behind Dean, a roll of ice on his neck, stretching.

Dean twists, saying something to Tanner, who takes the ice off and begins a front to back stretch.

A moment later, Archie slides off the chair in the corner, and presents a bowl to Dean.

Dean gives him a thumbs up, and Archie roots around in the bowl, producing a fistful of peach slices.

I stand in the doorway of my little house, and fall head over heels in love with Dean McAllister.