Chapter Twelve
Jarrod’s overnight bag hits the bed of his truck with a thud before he turns around to look at me. “I’d ask if you wanted to come back to Macon with me, but I already know your answer. Still, I got to tell you there is always a spot for you at my house.”
“I know that, but I think I better stay here.” Walking closer to him, I wrap my arms around his waist and lean my head into his chest. “But, you can keep asking.”
I loved having him here with me and wish he could stay forever, but I know he has to get back home. His life is in Macon with his family. Hell, maybe my life is in Macon, too. I just don’t know yet. In truth, only time will tell.
Wrapping his arms around me, he places a kiss to the top of my head. “I think you have a pretty good thing going on here, Gypsy. You just have to give it a chance. If it doesn’t work out, you know you always have a home with us.”
He’s right; I do know. All of them, Hank, Lucy, or him, would take me into their home the instant I returned to Macon. The minute Diane’s flower shop is rebuilt, she would do the same. The only problem is, I want a place to call my own. Right now, the trailer is as close as I can get to that.
“I guess you better hit the road,” I say, taking a deep breath and stepping away from him. “If not, your dad will be calling again.”
He had planned to spend most of the day with me then head home this afternoon. Instead, Hank called as we were eating breakfast, asking him to come back early. He and Lucy are arguing over some sort of new oven for the restaurant, and it has to be ordered today for some reason. Hank wants Jarrod there to make the call on whether it is truly needed or not.
“Yeah, I better get going.” He nods as he opens the door to his truck and climbs in. “See ya soon, sweetheart.”
I nod, pasting on a smile. “Yes, you will.”
I slowly make my way back to the trailer but stop before going inside and look back at my best friend. My feet are planted firmly on the porch while I wave a final goodbye. Waiting until I can no longer see his truck, I turn around and head back in.
As I close the door, my phone starts to ring. Rushing across the room, I grab it off the island and look down at it. My heart skips a beat then speeds up when I see Chance’s name flashing across the screen.
“Hello,” I answer, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice.
“Hey, Gypsy Girl,” he says in a raspy voice. “Is Jarrod still there?”
I’m surprised by his question. Not because he asked it, but just that he called to ask it. In the week I’ve known him, he has only ever called me about work. All of those calls have been short, and to the point, about business and nothing else.
“Nope, he just left,” I answer, walking over to the table and sitting down. “His dad called early this morning and asked him to head back early.”
“Shit,” he mumbles before adding. “I’m getting ready to go fishing and wanted to see if he wanted to come over and go with me.”
Last night, Chance and Jarrod spent nearly an hour talking about their love of fishing. Jarrod told him all about Hank’s and his annual trips to Canada to fish for walleye and northern pike. Chance told his own stories, bragging about the size of the catfish in his pond and promising my best friend to bring him fishing there sometime soon.
“Maybe next time he comes down, the two of you can go fishing,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “He’ll probably be back in a week or two.”
After a few seconds of silence, Chance starts talking again. “You could come with me. It’s great weather for fishing.”
His request throws me off guard. I didn’t expect a call, much less an invitation to come to his house or go fishing. With as many times as I yawned during their conversation, I’m pretty sure I made it clear last night that fishing isn’t exactly my thing. Well, I don’t think it would be my thing, but I can’t be sure.
“I’ve just never been fishing before,” I reply, trying to imagine myself putting a wiggly worm on a hook.
“You’ve never been fishing, not even once?” he asks, sounding shocked. “You’re kidding me, right?”
I almost laugh out loud at his surprise, but I swallow it back and answer him. “Nope, not even once.”
I guess it is a little weird, especially considering I grew up in Kentucky. Hell, there was a huge lake no more than a few miles from our old trailer. I went there a few times to swim but never even considered fishing. I didn’t have a dad, and my mom wouldn't take time away from getting drunk or high to take me to do anything. Hell, I could barely get her to feed me, no way she would take me fishing.
“There’s nothing to it, and I’m a great teacher,” he says, seemingly over his shock. “Plus, if we’re lucky, we can cook what we catch.”
He sounds so excited about it, so there’s no way I can turn him down. Actually, being outside all day sounds kind of fun. If nothing else, it will get me out of this trailer. I love it here, but it would be nice not to look at the same four walls all day long.
“I can fry the heck out of fish and make some awesome hushpuppies,” I reply, realizing that I am going to enjoy spending the afternoon with Chance. “I can also make a mean coleslaw if you have the right stuff.”
“That all sounds good to me. I’ll stop by and pick you up in an hour,” he says with a bit of humor in his voice. “Then come back here and I’ll teach you how to fish.”
A smile spreads across my face as I reply, “Okay.”
“Text me a list of what you need to make your coleslaw, and I’ll stop off by the store before I come and get you,” he adds before saying goodbye.
After disconnecting, I shoot him a quick text with everything I need. My mind is on a million things as I walk back to the bedroom. Opening the closet, I look at the few items of clothing I own and wonder what I’m supposed to wear to go fishing. Finally pulling out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, I head to the bathroom. I quickly change from my pajamas and throw my hair into a messy bun.
I stare into the mirror for a minute, taking in my look. For the first time, I notice the weight I have lost since the fire destroyed the diner. For a while there, I was getting a bit plump. Working around food, especially food as good as Hank and Lucy’s, I ate a lot. All of those extra calories put a few extra pounds on. Those same pounds have melted away since the fire. Still, I’m a good twenty pounds heavier than I was when I left my mom’s trailer.
Growing up, there was never much food in our home, especially not enough to put extra pounds on me. Mom got food stamps, but she traded those for cash that could be used to buy alcohol. What little groceries we did have was shared with whoever Mom dragged home from the bar. Most of them didn’t care if there was a hungry little girl needing to fill her belly. The ones who did never stuck around long.
Shaking off my thoughts, I leave the mirror and walk into the kitchen. I look around and see the mess Jarrod and I made making pancakes. My hands make quick work of clearing the table and cleaning up the breakfast dishes. By the time I have them all washed, Chance’s truck is pulling up out front.
After drying my hands, I walk to the door and open it to find Chance standing on the front porch with a smile on his face. “Hey there, Gypsy Girl.”
“Hi,” I mumble, feeling suddenly shy while looking down at my feet. “I’m ready, just let me grab my purse.”
Leaving him on the porch, I rush back to the island, grab my phone, and pick up my purse. Finally, I follow him outside and lock the door. He takes my hand and leads me down the porch steps. We walk to the truck in silence, with only the sounds of the gravel under our feet hitting my ears.
“Climb on up there and buckle up,” he says as he opens the door, giving my hand a squeeze before releasing.
I do as he says, strapping myself in. A second or two later, he climbs into the driver’s side and starts up the truck. Of course, country music starts blaring out of the speakers. This time, the song is A Country Boy Can Survive by Hank Williams, Jr. Unlike last time, I do not sing but he does. He belts out the lyrics, sounding like a wounded cat. I try to hold it back, but laughter bubbles out of me.
“Are you laughing at me?” he asks, shooting me a glare. “If I remember right, I told you that you sing like an angel and you just laugh at me.”
“I’d never laugh at you,” I say with a shrug, smiling innocently his way.
He rolls his eyes and looks back at the road. A second later, he is attempting to sing again. My laughter starts soon after. This time, I do not even try to hold back my laughter. He playfully glares my way but doesn’t stop making the awful racket. If anything, he just sings louder.
“My house is only about fifteen miles away,” he says after the song ends. “I wanted to live near the office but not right on top of it.”
“Hmmm,” I mumble, watching the scenery as he turns onto a road I have never been down before. “It’s pretty back here.”
He nods, looking out the window. He spends the next minute or two pointing out places, like his mother’s and brother’s homes. He also shows me the spot where he hit a deer last winter and a tiny restaurant that he swears has the best apple pie in the world.
Chance glances my way with a big grin on his face. “Did Jarrod tell you that my brother offered to drive up to Macon next weekend? He is gonna look at the plans and see if he can help with the rebuild of the diner.”
I can’t hide my shock, nor the hurt that Jarrod didn’t tell me. We spent the whole morning talking, so I can’t understand why he wouldn’t say anything. We have always shared everything. At least, Jarrod has told me everything that was going on with him, even though I was not always as open with my life, so why not this?
“Hey, now don’t be going and getting upset,” he whispers, reaching across the seat and grabbing my hand. “Adam just called me a few minutes before I pulled up. I’m guessing he just talked to Jarrod right before he called me, so I’m sure your friend will tell you as soon as you two talk next.”
I look over at him, blowing out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. “Yeah, he’ll call me after he gets home. I’m sure he will tell me then.”
I’m not sure why I am so relieved, but I am. Jarrod is not only my best friend, he’s really my only true friend. Of course, I have Lucy, Hank, and Diane, but their friendship is different. They all treat me as if I am their child. Now, I have Chance and Adam, even Sylvia. But none of them are Jarrod. He could never be replaced.
Chance gives my hand a squeeze before saying, “My brother has a bit of a crush on your friend, so I’m thinking he’ll be spending quite a bit of time in Macon.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured that out last night,” I reply with a lopsided grin. “I’m pretty sure Jarrod feels the same way.”
We continue talking about them until he pulls into the driveway beside a beautiful two story house. It’s not huge, but it is large, covered with a dusty blue siding. The multiple windows are surrounded by bright white shutters. Each one on the top floor also has a flower basket at their base.
“When I bought it, it was falling in. Adam and I worked on it for nearly a year before I could even move in. Then, we spent the next year finishing it up.” He cuts off the truck and looks my way. “What do you think?”
I keep staring, taking in every little detail. The shingles, the chimney sticking out of the top of the roof, even the old oak tree that shades the house. Every little detail is utter perfection, like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. In my mind, I can see a family living in the house. I can see them sitting on the porch relaxing on a warm summer day. In my mind’s eye, I can imagine the children playing hide and seek while the parents sneak kisses on the porch swing. This house belongs to a family. A mom, a dad, and bunch of kids living happily ever after. Their life would be even more beautiful than the house they call home.
“Oh, Chance, it’s amazing,” I whisper in awe, staring at the wraparound porch. “I absolutely love it.”
The porch is my favorite part of the house. Starting at the far corner, it runs to the other end and wraps around the side of the house. The far end has a porch swing covered in cushions with two throw pillows. Near the swing, there are two rocking chairs also covered with cushions and sporting a throw pillow. A small table separates the two, with an even smaller fern sitting in the middle of it.
“My mom helped me decorate it, so some of it is a bit too flowery for me,” he mumbles, sounding almost embarrassed.
Tearing my eyes from the house, I smile at him. “It’s perfect.”
As the words leave my mouth, I realize the house isn’t the only thing that is perfect, so is Chance. He’s not only handsome, but he is everything a girl could dream of in a man. He is every bit as amazing as his house.
Unbuckling his seat belt, he reaches over and does the same to mine. Slowly, he scoots over closer to me and gently places his hands against my cheeks. His lips slowly descend on mine, kissing me softly. He devours my mouth, tasting me and allowing me to taste him back. The kiss goes on and on before he finally pulls back, leaving me completely breathless.
He draws in a deep breath and says, “The only perfect thing I see is you.”