Unstable (39 page)

“Henny,” his hand tightens around mine, “I really don’t like this topic and would rather have my ass beat than answer you.”

“You think I want you taking mental inventory over there, remembering all your rendezvous? No, but I also want a fresh start in our home. Not just some closet space in your Den of Fornication.”

“Oh look,” he almost shouts, “we’re here. I’ll…uh…get back to you on…this scary conversation. Let’s go.” He opens his door and jumps out. “Rude to keep the man waiting.”

Mr. Boles’ receptionist asks us to take a seat in the lobby while she lets him know we’re here and as I sit, Keaton announces that he has to use the restroom.

No, he doesn’t.

I can read him like a book, written in Chinese, and know exactly what he’s doing.

He’s going to hide while he makes phone calls, to every home renovator he can find. Hiring the one with the soonest opening before he walks back out here.

But enough’s enough, I’d had my fun. I don’t want him spending a small fortune gutting his whole house, so I get up and go knock on the men’s bathroom door.

“Keaton?” I quietly call through it.

“Uh…be right out.”

“Babe, I was kidding. Just the furniture used as props has to go. Don’t schedule a remodeling crew. I’m fine, promise.”

He opens the door, grabs both my cheeks and lays a warm, torrid kiss on me. “All taken care of. What’d I tell ya? You want it fixed, it’ll be fixed. But,” he holds up a finger, “we don’t talk about it out loud ever again. Only you. Only one I wanna think or talk about and only woman I’ve ever loved. Deal?”

“Keaton, we move soon. Are we gonna have a bathtub or anywhere to sit?”

“What’d I just say? No talking about it, and taken care of. Damn, but you don’t listen.” He shakes his head.

“Thank you.” I place both hands on his chest and smile up at him. “It actually does mean a lot and I appreciate it. Love you.”

“Love you more, baby. Now let’s go sign some papers and keep moving forward.”

Lord knows what strings he just pulled and how much work will still be getting done when I move in, but I love him for it.

By the time we walk back in the lobby, the receptionist is waiting to show us to Mr. Boles’ office.

As promised, everything’s ready, and we’re in and out in ten minutes—
me
being the one to write him a check for his fee this time.

“You wanna stop and have lunch?” Keaton asks when we’re back in the truck.

“Where?” My pitch skyrockets into a hemisphere of nasally fear.

“At the diner,” he laughs. “You know of any other place to eat nearby that I’m not aware of?”

No, which is why my voice just sounded like a really scared cheerleader.

“Keaton, you know I can’t go in there! Especially at prime time, lunch hour. The whole town will be inside, waiting to either scowl at, scrutinize, or whisper about me. Thanks, but I’d rather starve.” I cross my arms, angry he’d even suggest such lunacy.

He pulls into the parking lot anyway and throws the truck in park, turning in his seat to look straight at me.

“Henley Gene Calvert, soon to be Cash,” he speaks sternly, “who’s your man?”

I roll my eyes and huff. “Seriously, can’t we wait until we get home for me to stroke your ego?”

“No, we’ll be too busy with me tanning that ass. Now answer me, or I’ll do it right here in broad daylight for all of Ashfall to see.
That
they might whisper about.”

“You know who my man is, although he’s pushing his luck at the moment,” I snap at him. “This isn’t cute. Take us home, I mean it.”

“Hear me real clear on this, baby. We have a home in Ashfall, and one day, our kids will go to school and church here. They’ll have friends. You have got to learn how to interact again. And as your man, I’m gonna help you with that. Show you that you can go into town any damn time you want with no trouble. Know how?”

“Hmmm…” I mockingly tap my chin. “By bullying me into going places that make me uncomfortable?”

“Not bullying, but pushing harder, yes. Now we’re gonna go in that diner with you holding my hand and your head high. If a single soul gives you one ounce of trouble, I don’t care if they’re eighteen or eighty, I
will
stop their shit fucking cold. No one will mess with you, but if they do, I can guarantee it won’t be for more than five seconds.”

“Why even go in if you’re expecting trouble?”

He rubs my shoulder and gentles his voice. “I’m not expecting trouble, just reassuring you that
if
there is any, I’ll take care of it. Henny, I have faith in the people of Ashfall. Well, most of them. And you’re painting an unfair picture of them based on where your mind was at all those years ago, and one douchebag with a couple conspiring bitches. You’d find a few rotten apples in
any
town in the world. You need to give this place another chance. Please.
One more chance
.”

“One.” I hold up a single finger. “And if you’re wrong,
I’m
tanning
your
ass when we get home.”

“Deal.” He gives me a quick kiss. “Now out you go, I’m starving.”

“Maybe I’ll find myself a
new man
while we’re in here,” I grouch.

“That’d definitely get ya the trouble you’re looking for,” he laughs.

I slam my door with a grumble. Drives me insane…
Keaton Fucking Cash.

“SORRY, BABY. MAN,
YOU
were right
. That was
awful
. It’s a miracle we escaped with our lives,” Keaton can hardly rub it in without laughing on our drive home. “I swear, when Loy offered you a piece of gum and then Patty had the
nerve
to bring over a slice of your favorite pie,
on the house no less
, I thought I was gonna have to start throwing punches.”

Speaking of throwing punches. That might just be how I remove the annoying, pompous gratification off his face.

Everyone at the diner was as nice as they could be, exactly how, if I think back long and hard enough, I remember them. And some of the older, more outspoken folks, even commented on how nice it was to finally see Keaton and I together.

I think Frank Miller’s exact words, as he was clapping Keaton on the back were, “Managed to get her to give ya a look, huh? ‘Bout damn time, now Martin can pay up on our bet before he kicks the bucket. Old bastard probably thinks I’ve forgotten. No dice, he owes me twenty bucks.”

I let out a small laugh and look over at Keaton, not so aggravated with him anymore. “Lunch was very nice, babe. Thank you for getting me to go in. I wouldn’t have ever done it without you, and, it was good for me.”

“You’re welcome, and I’m proud of you.” He gives me a sly wink and focuses back on the road.

“I still can’t believe people had a hunch, or bet, going about us though. First of all, I didn’t know folks their age ever paid that much attention to what the teenagers were doing, especially the subtle inner workings. And, I had a boyfriend, while you also had at least three girls hanging off your arm and every word at all times. One of our moms, or both, must’ve gossiped about their suspicions.”

“Oh, it wasn’t a suspicion for my mom. She knew exactly how I felt about you, and I promise ya, she didn’t say a word. Neither did yours. This is a small town, Henny. Every fair, church service, rodeo, ball game…any time we were both in the same place at the same time, which was often, all anyone had to do was have their eyes open and they’d know. The only one oblivious to what always existed between us, was you. But that’s all in the past now.
Thank Christ.
Oh, and no being nice to Martin if you happen to see that crotchety old fart. He was betting against us.
Traitor.
”

I giggle, staring out the window, and my mind suddenly takes itself on a trip.

“Are you cold?” Hadley asks me.

“F…freezing.” My teeth chatter as I hug myself, trying to stay warm.

“I told you to bring a jacket. Football in October isn’t known for being warm. You wanna go?”

Yes, but I’d never admit it. My sister looks forward to the football games all week and I’m not about to make her leave early.

“No, I’ll be fine. It’s almost over anyway, right?”

“Uh…” she snickers, “it’s not even halftime, Henley. Come on, we can leave.”

Just as we’re about to navigate our way through the crowd and down the bleachers, I hear my name being shouted. And then again, loud enough to be heard over all the raucous noise of a football game.

“Henny, down here!” I look toward the voice and see an arm waving from the sidelines.

“Oh look,” Hadley nudges my arm, “Keaton’s got a jacket for you. Go get it so we can stay!”

Sure enough, Keaton just happened to notice, in the middle of a game in which he starts, that I, amongst everyone else in the bleachers, was cold. And is now holding up, not just a jacket, but his letter jacket, that it appears he dug out of the duffle bag at his feet.

Great.

The very last thing in the whole world that I want to do, besides freeze to death, is walk down there and accept, then wear, his damn letter jacket in front of the whole damn town.

Who keeps their bag and coat on the field with them anyway? Keaton Fucking Cash- that’s who.

But my sister’s already up on her feet cheering again, gabbing about how good so-and-so’s butt looks in his uniform with the girl beside her, wearing a huge smile…so I start descending the bleachers.

I’ll be warm, and she’ll be happy. The latter is all that really matters to me, and to ensure it, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.

I get to the bottom and lean over the rail, but there’s no way I can reach. So Keaton, seemingly unconcerned with rules, safety, or the audience I know we now have, scales the fence like a pole cat and hangs by one hand, offering me his jacket with the other.

“Hey.” He gives me an easy smile. “Put this on. You make a damn pretty popsicle, but I don’t want ya cold.”

I glance down the line, spotting Merrick sitting on the end of the bench with a bunch of other second and third stringers. He already won’t be happy after the game, having sat through it, but me wearing Keaton’s jacket will send him to a whole new level of angry, so I’m hesitant to accept.

“Fuck what he thinks,” Keaton follows my line of vision and snarls. “If he’s not gonna notice you or that you’re shivering and take care of it, I am. It’s his own damn fault for being a shitty boyfriend. Put on the coat, Hen, and if he gives you any shit about it, you let me know.”

“Cash, get off the fence and your ass on the field, Romeo!” Coach Van Wyk screamed, and with a parting wink, Keaton dropped to the ground, grabbed his helmet and went in to score a touchdown.

I shake my head and look over at him in lingering thought. He’s right…the signs were always there, flashing brightly, even in public. But I had my misconceptions that at the time I thought were just, so I simply chose not to let my brain process the truth.

“Whatcha thinking about over there?” he asks.

“The time you gave me your letter jacket at the football game ‘cause I was cold.”

“Oh yeah.” He lets out a small, reminiscent laugh. “You know, now that you mention it, you never told me exactly how Merrick took that one. I figured he’d be mad, but if I remember correctly, you guys seemed fine the next time I saw ya, when he flaunted you right past me, arms and lips all over you,” he grumbles.

Oh my God—it hits me—the answer to one of my oldest, unanswered questions. I
finally
understand.

“What is it?” Keaton asks worriedly when I gasp in discovery. And like I got so used to doing, I laugh at the most inappropriate time, to avoid any of the normal responses—such as anger, pain, or both.

“I just realized why Merrick was ever with me in the first place. All that half-ass work and time he put in, which had to be a pain in the ass for him…and he still lost.” This time my laugh is perfectly timed and real, and from the gut, so joyous I even snort.

“Henny, baby, when you’re done over there, can ya fill me in on what the hell’s so funny?”