A knock on my door startles me, and one of my old diaries I’m rereading falls onto the floor. “Yeah?” I call, grimacing as the journal lands on its spine halfway beneath the bed.
“Evie, honey,” Grandma hollers. “I’m running to the grocery store. Did you need anything?”
Oh, great heavens. I know Grandma loves me to pieces, but I think she’s secretly pleased that I’m bedbound. She wants to take care of me for once, rather than the other way around. I know it’s a pride thing. Still, she shouldn’t be driving.
“Um . . . I’m okay. Why don’t I have Brandon do that?” I hate that Brandon is the first person to come to mind for help, but I can’t ask Dad or Francine. Jamie is always working overtime, and Rebecka is eight months pregnant. Dana is probably out shopping since it’s Black Friday.
I also looked at Grandma’s budget before calling the agency, and it wasn’t looking great. She doesn’t have money to spare, so we can’t hire someone for our grocery runs. One of the many reasons I moved in with her was to pad her income with a little bit of rental money.
“Nonsense. I can go to the grocery store, Evie.” Her scathing tone makes me sigh.
“Okay. In that case . . .” I look down at my body. “Maybe some Icy Hot? And . . .” I glance around the room I’ll be stuck in for the next week. “Lots of junk food.” Might as well live it up while I’m bedbound.
“Coming right up.”
I slide my phone out from beneath my sheets and open the text conversation with Brandon that I haven’t looked at in years. My thumb hovers over the last desperate-sounding message I sent him, attempting to recapture his attention after he’d lost interest in me.What are you up to this evening? I made us some dinner, if you’re hungry.
He never replied.
Hey,I draft, feeling anxious. Every new thread of communication between us feels like I’m sealing my fate for a broken heart.Grandma is going to the grocery store . . . I don’t think she should be driving. Maybe you could miraculously appear in the driveway and offer to take her?
I hope he sees the message before it’s too late.
As if he’s right by his phone, he responds right away.Leaving now.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I relax into the covers. This is yet another painful reminder that Brandon isn’t all that bad. In fact, he’s mostly wonderful.
And that’s precisely why I must keep my distance.
Chapter 9
Brandon
Maggieholdsthedooropen for me as I carry the grocery bags into the house. “My, you’re strong,” she comments, eyeing my biceps as I slide the bags hanging from my arms onto the kitchen table. “Are you still going to the gym regularly?” She squeezes my arm before turning to the coffee maker.
I begin unbagging the groceries. “Careful, Maggie. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”
Maggie grins, glancing over her shoulder to wiggle her eyebrows. “I can’t remember. Do you take milk and sugar?”
I rest a hand on her shoulder. “Let me. Why don’t you do the groceries? You know where everything goes.”
She steps away from the counter, allowing me to take over. She puts everything away minus Evie’s junk food. Evie is a health nut, so the fact that she requested junk food means the poor girl must know she’s in dire straits. When Maggie confided that she didn’t know what to get her, I took over. Evie’s a savory snacker, but she also loves ice cream. I got her all her favorites—cheese puffs, tortilla chips and nacho cheese, and cookie dough ice cream with chocolate drizzle.
“Why don’t you check on Evie?” Maggie asks as she sits down at the table. “I need to rest my feet.”
Trying not to look too eager, I grab the ice cream and a spoon before heading to Evie’s bedroom. I know I’m pushing my luck by showing up uninvited—yet again. But if Evie’s going to give an inch, I’m going to take a mile.
I pause outside her bedroom door, feeling nervous all of a sudden. Gently, I wrap my knuckles against the wood. No answer. I incline my ear to listen for signs of life, but all I hear is the gentle din of a whirring sound machine. Is she sleeping? I hesitate before knocking again, nudging the door open slightly when she doesn’t answer. Holding my breath, I slowly poke my head in.
It feels like I’m entering a dragon’s den.
My gaze finds the end of the bed, then travels up the duvet until I spot the gentle swell and dip of her hip, her shoulder, before it settles on her head of loose, dark waves. They fan delicately across her pillow, cascading over the edge of the bed like a silky curtain.
I suck in a breath. She’s sleeping.
The bed creaks. “Grandma?”
My face flames with regret. I feel like the world’s biggest pervert—the way I always felt when Evie and I flirted with each other. I should have never started flirting with her in the first place, but that had always been my way with women, and Evie was no exception. It wasn’t always like that between us, though. Whether she meant to or not, she offered the bait, and because I’m me, I bit.
