Chapter 28
Daisy
Daisy woke up feverish, smothered in her own hair, Dunk’s arm and leg thrown over her, with a headache the size of Texas.
“Uhngh,” she groaned piteously.
Dunk’s big hand came up to paw sleepily at her hair. “‘M sleeping,” he mumbled, his voice like gravel at a thousand decibels in her ear.
“Got to let me up,” she groaned, shoving weakly at his thigh.
With a grunt worthy of a professional tennis player, he moved off of her, freeing her to lurch out of his bedroom and across the hall to the bathroom. She stood facing the toilet, swaying a little on her feet, while she considered her stomach and if it was going to rebel again.
Once she decided it wasn’t going to, she brushed her teeth and drank a little water, went to the bathroom, and squinted at the rat’s nest of her hair before knotting it askew on top of her head.
It was an odd moment to have the thought, really, but what ran through Daisy’s mind as she debated redoing the knot was that she didn’t look like an adorable fairy princess. She looked like a woman who’d been rode hard and put up wet, faint smudges under her eyes and blotches on her chest from being overheated while sleeping with a man. Pride swelled a little and she watched her mouth curl into a catlike smirky smile.
Still, she made her way carefully back to the bedroom, where Dunk had dragged himself into a sitting position, all the pillows piled behind his back and neck. He was deliciously disheveled, his slightly too long blond hair tousled around his head, his torso streaked with creases from his sheets. He flashed her a tired but totally happy grin.
“What’s the verdict? Will you live?” he rasped teasingly.
“Did I…” She frowned and sat gingerly next to him.
He nodded almost gleefully and recounted the end of last night.
“Oh yeah, you did. You spewed spectacularly at Irish’s. I cleaned it up —you’re welcome—and then Seth came over and drove us home. You were passed way the hell out. I would’ve put a mirror under your nose to check that you were alive, but you were snoring like a bear, Daisy Rhys.”
She bit her lip, fighting another smile. “Thanks for… all of that.”
“No problem,” he said as he picked up her hand to play with her fingers.
Yesterday had been… a day.
They had done exactly what he’d predicted yesterday.
They’d dug deep, slung questions and accusations and theories, inflicted new wounds and reopened some old ones, bragged and complained. They’d fought and reassured and made promises. By the end of it, they’d drafted a playbook for their relationship—for their future. There were only a few things they’d danced around, the huge things like marriage and when they wanted to have kids, neither ready for that yet.
Despite her hangover, Daisy didn’t think she’d ever been more grateful for alcohol in her life. Not because the playbook was a terrible idea, or because she’d lied at any point, but because it had felt so right that she was still scared. She was still scared to really try to build something lasting and deep, especially when that involved talking and risks and compromises. But those fears were surrounded by the love that flowed between Dunk and her, which made her feel brave and adventurous.
As long as they stayed a team, then she could find a way to fulfill her emotional need to do her art while pulling her weight financially. As long as they stayed a team, Dunk wouldn’t have to finish growing up on his own, and he would have someone at his side when he found a job he really wanted to replace being a gym teacher. And, best of all, as long as they stayed a team, then they would banter and make love forever; he’d be her strong assistant at art fairs and she’d bake cupcakes for his football players.
She sighed, like a teenager watching a romantic movie.
“What are you thinking, darlin’?” he asked.
Then she grinned and leaned over to smack a kiss on his wonderful mouth. “Honestly?” she teased. “I was thinking about bacon. And coffee.”
“Funny thing, I was too,” he told her, grinning back. “Do you want to see if we can go puppy dog face my mom into making us some brunch?”
Daisy laughed and nodded. “Can I borrow something to wear? My luggage is still out in your truck, and everything’s dirty anyway.”
A few minutes later, she was drowning in one of his tee shirts and basketball shorts with the drawstring hanging to her knees since she was so much smaller than Dunk. She stared down at herself in dismay.
“My mom won’t be able to say no to you,” Dunk said proudly, as if she were absolutely perfect.
He took her hand and tugged her upstairs, Tugger nipping at their heels before bounding off to find Fudgsicle.
Daisy licked her lips, trying not to worry what Shelly was going to think of her. They’d met before, of course; almost everyone in Maybelle had met everyone else at some point. And Daisy said hello and chatted about the weather or something equally insignificant if Shelly was gardening when Daisy was coming or going from Dunk’s apartment.
But that had been when they were dating, not after spending a week alone on a road trip, not after she’d clearly spent the night in Dunk’s bed.
When they entered the kitchen, Shelly looked over her shoulder and then whistled, her eyebrows raising up under her bangs.
“Hi, Mama,” Dunk said a little sheepishly, walking over to hug her.
“I thought you were on a road trip with Chase,” she said dryly.
“Oh,” Dunk laughed. “It’s a long story.”
Shelly snorted and snapped the dish towel that had been draped over one shoulder at his chest. “I have popovers in the oven I could probably share with you two,” she said dryly. Then her eyes tracked over to Daisy, skimming her outfit and her lopsided topknot, and Daisy was about to shrink or apologize when Shelly grinned. “Hi, Daisy. Nice to see you.”
That was the grin that Shelly had passed on to Dunk, so Daisy was helpless to respond in any other way but beaming smile of her own.
“Hi, Shelly,” she said. “It’s nice to see you again, too. Are you sure you don’t mind sharing your popovers with us?”
Flapping a hand, Shelly replied, “I made two dozen, didn’t I?”
“It’s almost like you knew I was home,” Dunk said, sliding into one of the kitchen chairs and patting the one next to him for Daisy to take.
“Seth called about an hour ago,” Shelly replied.
“She loves Seth,” Dunk told Daisy.
“I love all of your friends. I helped raise them.” She pulled two trays of popovers out of the oven and set them on top of the stove, then started taking them out and putting them in a big bright green bowl. “So even though you only sent me the odd text letting me know you’re alive,” Shelly began, giving Dunk a bit of a shrewd, fondly annoyed look, “I know you didn’t drive across the country with Chase, since I saw her Tuesday.”
Daisy and Dunk exchanged a look and then Dunk took her hand on the table and kissed the inside of her wrist, making her melt a little.
“It was a set up,” Dunk admitted, though he was still smiling.
“Looking back, it was really obvious,” Daisy put in.
Shelly brought over the popovers, butter and jam. “I saw her, Leda, and your two best friends at the cafe,” Shelly said.
“Conspiracy!” Dunk cried.
“Karen and Stephanie?” Daisy gaped, but then she remembered Chase and Stephanie’s meeting at the carnival and she pouted. That conversation had been conspiratorial, now that it was in hindsight. “Oh. Huh.”
“Best of intentions, I’m sure,” Shelly said. Then she leveled a mom look at Dunk and reminded him, “You had it coming, the way you ‘helped’ Chase and Aden and Leda and Jamie. And the way it looks, it worked out.”
“Of course it did,” Dunk scoffed.
“We just needed to talk about the tougher things,” Daisy said quietly. “Things we should’ve talked about when we were first dating.”
Nodding somberly, Shelly reached out and ruffled Dunk’s hair. “Your father was a quiet man,” she said, “and I never minded because he seemed to like my talking. But one day he left, and I found a letter on my pillow after the kids finally fell asleep. They were so confused and lost, and I had to calm them down when I didn’t understand a thing myself.”
“Mom—”
“No,” Shelly cut him off fiercely, squeezing his hand. “In that letter was a laundry list of complaints,” she said plainly. “It wasn’t all criticisms of me,” she added with admirable tartness, instead of bitterness, although Daisy was sure that had been there once. “It was the simplest, worst misunderstanding there is: I misunderstood his quiet as happiness.”
She blinked a bunch and brushed non-existent crumbs off her top.
Daisy couldn’t help it, she rushed around the table and threw her arms around Shelly’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Shelly,” she whispered.
Then Daisy squeaked when Dunk crashed into both of them, his long, strong arms encircling both of them. “I’m so sorry both of you had idiotic first husbands,” Dunk mumbled into the curve of Daisy’s neck.
From the center of their hug fest, Shelly gave a dry laugh. “All right now,” she said, gently pushing Daisy and Dunk off and back into their seats. “He gave me three beautiful children and did his disappearing act when they were young enough that they weren’t scarred too badly.”
“I was a baby,” Dunk told Daisy, “so I’m not scarred at all.”
“Yeah, you’re perfect,” Shelly retorted with a roll of her eyes.
Daisy agreed with Shelly on this one. A man whose father had walked out not after his oldest sister was born, not after his second sister was born, but right after he was born… that man might have some instinct to be strong, to be useful, to be the life of the party, and to be easy-going. Memorable but never intrusive. Exciting but never demanding.
Daisy’s family had done some family counseling when Conor was seventeen or so, while Daisy was in middle school. Conor had always had a drive to fiercely defend his family—they’d started therapy after he’d beaten up buttheads picking on Levi—while holding this small piece of himself back. Some of it, the therapist had said, had to do with being adopted because sometimes it didn’t matter how much their parents loved him, it was a fact that his birth mother had made another choice. Daisy had cried so much, distraught at the idea that Conor’s biological mother hadn’t cared enough about him or had cared so much that she’d given him up to give him a better chance. Conor and Dunk weren’t alike as far as their basic personalities, but they shared that strong need to be liked.
“Mom, these are so fucking good,” Dunk said a second later, clearly oblivious to the important revelation that Daisy had just had about his psyche, cramming another popover into his mouth. Jam and crumbs clung to one corner of his chin. “My hangover is completely cured.”
“I always cure your hangover. It’s been a while, though, which is a good thing,” Shelly said in that dry way she seemed to be able to pull off so easily. “Leda and Jamie’s wedding, wasn’t it? You looked seasick.”
“Funny you should mention that fateful night I first, uh, connected with Daisy on a personal level,” Dunk said, his shit-eating grin flashing on like the big lights at the football field for a night game.
Daisy kicked Dunk’s shin under the table.
He shot her a confused look and asked, “What was that for? My mom doesn’t have a problem with consensual adult behavior, Daisy.”
Daisy felt her whole body burn up in mortification.
“That’s true, Duncan, but don’t be the douchebag jock who brags about his conquests to everyone, including his own mom,” Shelly retorted.
That sent Daisy toppling into slightly hysterical… hysterics. She cackled, hugging her aching stomach, until she caught her breath.
“Oh my gosh, I wish I had gotten a picture of you right then,” Daisy wheezed.
“Anyway,” Dunk said loudly, “what I was trying to explain was why I didn’t tell you that I was driving the Shelby across country with Daisy instead of Chase. And it had to do with an idea to do the drive but pretend we hated each other, that their sneaky plan backfired. I couldn’t tell you about it because, well, you’re a terrible liar, Mom, let’s just say it like it is.”
Daisy rolled her eyes at that and said, “So are you, baby.”
He smiled so that his eyes crinkled a little at the outside corners, making Daisy melt a little because that was his loving, smitten smile. “Maybe,” he said, “but I’m also a super nice guy. I couldn’t do that to my friends, since the setup was payback. I didn’t want to start a new round.”
“Definitely not when Jesse’s leaving so soon,” Shelly agreed.
Dunk’s shoulders hunched a fraction. “Yeah,” he sighed.
Daisy’s heart sank at the reminder. She had been deliberately avoiding thinking or talking about it during the road trip, but now that they were back, it was only a few weeks before Jesse left for Chicago. Daisy was sad to lose a new friend, especially because Jesse didn’t seem the type to be good at keeping in touch; if she would grunt more than talk during a conversation, what were the odds that she’d even text Daisy back?
“But y’all are going to throw her a legendary party, right?” Daisy asked hopefully, to cheer both Dunk and herself up at the thought.
By the way his face lit up, it worked, at least for the moment.
“You bet,” he enthused. “Big blowout at Tristan’s place. Dozen grills, enough beer to fill up the lake, some nice whiskey. All our friends, and Munn and Aden promised they’d keep out acquaintances.”
Shelly laughed at that. “Tell me when it’s going to be. I’ll make some pies or something, whatever Jesse wants. Homemade whipped cream.”
Daisy thought with a pang that she was so glad that she and Dunk had worked things out. Because otherwise, she would’ve gone to the party not one hundred percent focused on celebrating Jesse’s last hurrah in Maybelle. She would’ve been anxious and worried about being around Dunk again. Now they could celebrate the way they were meant to, no cracks among the group, nothing but love, excitement for Jesse’s new life in Chicago mingling with the sadness of her moving away.
The thought reminded Daisy that she hadn’t talked to her family yet to let them know that she was home again. She’d been texting them regularly, since her father and brothers had been uneasy about the trip in the first place. She’d let them know that she was with Dunk—reluctantly, but she’d known they would see Chase and freak the hell out. It had only intensified her father’s concern, while it had made her brothers bristle, convinced that it had been Dunk’s scheme.
“I actually better head out,” Daisy said into a pause in Dunk and Shelly’s planning what they could bake and cook for the party.
They both looked over at her in surprise, as if they couldn’t imagine where else she could possibly have to be.
“I need to check in with my parents and my brothers, and call Stephanie and Karen to give them a piece of my mind,” she explained with a smile.
“Be nice to them,” Dunk said with a chuckle, leaning over to give her a sweet kiss, sliding his hand around her neck to clasp the base of her skull briefly in his big hand. “How about I drive you home? It’s a long walk and you’d have to haul your luggage too.”
“Okay, thanks,” she said, suddenly shy.
She stood up and hugged Shelly, thanking her for the meal, and she and Dunk headed downstairs to gather up her purse, clothes from yesterday, and her luggage before they went out to his truck.
The drive home was quiet, the radio on instead of one of Dunk’s playlists, and it was a tiny difference from the road trip, but it made Daisy sigh softly. The trip had been magical, a bubble of time where they hadn’t had the other things in their lives tugging at their attention or time. Now they were going back to their everyday lives, and while she was sure they loved each other and were both committed to making it work, she wasn’t sure how easy it would really be.
When Dunk pulled up to the curb in front of her apartment building, Daisy tucked wisps of her hair behind her ears a little nervously.
“Um, so I’ll call you later?” she asked.
Dunk ran a hand through his hair and answered, “I have a few people I need to catch up with myself. I promised Chase I’d go talk to her first thing, and then I need to pick up a thank-you gift for the people who helped my mom take care of Tugger while I was gone.”
“Okay,” she said quickly, trying to shrug like it wasn’t awkward.
“But call!” Dunk added, a little too loud in the truck even with all the windows rolled down. He closed his eyes briefly and then his thumb slid across Daisy’s chin, pushing it up so they were looking at each other. “But call,” he repeated, calmer, “and if I don’t answer, leave me a message, so I can hear your voice whenever I get home. I know we only shared a room the last few nights, but between that and the car rides, I’m kind of used to hearing your voice all the time, Daisy Rhys. I’m addicted now.”
Her awkwardness was gently reassured by his fervent words, and she leaned in to kiss him, framing his face in her hands, their tongues pushing together frantically.
“It isn’t going to be weird, right?” she asked, almost pleading, raw and vulnerable and needing to know that he was, too.
“It’ll be a little weird,” he teased.
“Dunk—”
“I swear, it’ll be good,” he said so fiercely that his voice cracked.
She nodded, kissed him one more time, and jumped down from the truck, reaching back in for her purse and luggage.
“I love you,” he called out suddenly when she was going up the stairs.
She swung around and swallowed hard, the awe and joy in those fresh words, those words he’d never given another woman like this, romantic and new, making her tear up a little. She cupped her hands around her mouth to help her project and called back, “I love you too, Coach!”
The title made him flash her that all-teeth grin.
She turned and hurried up the stairs before she gave in to the temptation to fly back to his truck, climb in, and never leave.