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“Do you still live in Pecan Orchard?”
“I still live with Daddy. I do my best to keep both men out of trouble.”
“You still live at home?” His tone teetered between surprise and judgment.
“Yes, I do, and I’m not ashamed of it. It’s completely respectable. I make a good living, so it’s all by choice.”
“Yes, I got a taste of your livelihood today.”
“You’re welcome, by the way. Your skin looks great.”
He chuckled. “I’ll give you that. Your bedside manner, though, was lacking.”
“You’re the only person who would say so. Despite what you think about me, I’m generally adored,” I teased.
He turned, making sure we locked eyes. “I do remember that about you.”
I swallowed hard. Holy crow.
He reached over and took my hand. “I’m sorry for not recognizing you today.”
I stared down at our hands. They looked good together. His were all masculine, and mine were feminine and slender. We both had well-kept nails, except mine were painted the perfect shade of taupe. Not only did they look good together—they felt as if they belonged, like the last two puzzle pieces that came together, allowing you to see the completed picture.
I bit my lip, wanting to hold on to him for as long as I could, forgetting he was a lost cause and that he’d hurt me. “I guess I can forgive you. I’m sure it was because I still look so young,” I joked.
He leaned in closer. His cinnamon breath lingered between us. His lips parted to speak right as his phone buzzed loudly. He dropped my hand like a hot biscuit. “I need to take this. It’s Morgan. Do you remember Morgan Bronson?”
Ugh. Unfortunately, yes. She was still interrupting me. “Looks like you didn’t forget everything about Pecan Orchard.” I stood. “I’m going to go check on your daddy.” And check my brain while I was at it.Chapter SixI wasn’t sure what broke my heart more: looking through the glass door and seeing Tom hooked up to so many machines in an effort to keep him alive, or watching June silently cry by his bedside. She kept attempting to hold his hand, yet each time she wouldn’t allow herself to. I hated to interrupt, but I needed to see Tom and get away from his son. I stepped closer so the automatic doors would open.
June’s head snapped up, and she wiped her eyes.
“I’m sorry to intrude.”
She waved her hand. “Darlin’, you aren’t intruding. You’ve been more his family than anyone. The doctor told me he’s only authorized to speak to you, since you are his primary caregiver. Tom probably didn’t trust any of the rest of us not to pull the plug on him.” She half laughed, half cried.
I pulled up a chair next to her and took her hand.
Her unusually large hand squeezed the life out of mine. “You’re a good girl. Always were.”
“I don’t think Brooks would agree.”
She chuckled. “I gather from your exchange that you were the aesthetician he saw today.”
“Guilty.”
“Whatever you did to him, he deserved it for not recognizing you. You haven’t changed a bit, other than being more beautiful.”
“I think the tears in your eyes are clouding your vision.”
She patted my hand. “I’ve been blind about a lot of things but not that.” She looked wistfully at Tom. “You know,” her voice cracked, “we’d always hoped you and Brooks would end up together. Tom used to say, ‘If Brooks is smart, he’ll realize Gracie is the catch of a lifetime.’”
“We were just friends,” I stuttered. Though inside I was flattered Tom and June wished the same thing I had.
“Uh-huh. We saw the way you two used to look at each other.”
I tucked some tendrils behind my ears. “We were like siblings, and Brooks always loved Morgan,” I hissed her name. Brooks had never looked at me the way he used to look at Morgan. With her it was always with wide-eyed wonder. As if she were this magical, exotic creature. When he used to look at me, it usually bordered on amusement and annoyance. Carly and I were always trying to talk him into something. Whether it was being a participant in the school carnival’s kissing booth or making him help us with the homecoming parade float. He would eventually give in but not without giving me a look that said he’d rather wring my neck.
June grimaced. “Morgan,” she spewed. “I have no idea what my son sees in her. They’re dating again.”
“So I heard. He’s talking to her now.”
“She’s probably complaining that Brooks ruined her night by having to leave her company’s dinner party early. Any girlfriend worth her salt would have left with him and come to the hospital. His daddy is dying, for goodness’ sake,” she croaked. “But not that one. She’s as selfish as she’s always been,” she ranted. She took a deep breath in and out. “Enough about her; tell me how you’ve been, honey.”
