I hurry to put on my boots before grabbing her jacket from the closet. The only designer one in the group, and I hold it out for her to slip into. “Will you come to my house? I have somethin’ for you.”
Her eyes lock with mine, and I hold my breath. All I need to do is show her what I did while she was gone, and she might believe me when I say I’m sorry. That I’m not that guy anymore, and that I love her. I love her more than anything in this world.
“Sure, I guess that’s fine.”
Mom walks out with three containers of food, and Brynlee’s eyes widen again. “I have more if you need any. Just let me know.”
“More? Than this? This is like my tater tot fiasco, only better,” Brynlee says.
I shake my head at Mom, and I know she’s doing this for me. “Thanks, Mom. Merry Christmas. I love you.”’
“Merry Christmas,” Brynlee says. “And thank you.”
“Merry Christmas, you two.”
Chapter Thirty
Brynlee
My hands feel clammy as I walk up the front steps of Rhett’s house. I’ve never seen the inside before, and he carries all of the leftovers Lydia gave me to put in his fridge until I leave. Part of me doesn’t want to leave, but I can’t just give in. I have to be strong.
It’s hard to be so strong after hearing his mother’s voice on my voicemail. Hearing what she had to say, I knew I had to talk toRhett before I made any final decisions about what to do. Being by myself and alone with my own realizations does me no good. I need to understand exactly how we got here to begin with.
“I can take your jacket,” Rhett says after he puts the containers in his fridge, and I can feel his nervous energy.
At least I’m not the only one feeling this anxiety.
I nod my head in thanks and slip it off before stepping out of my boots. His house is a nice little bachelor pad. From what I can see, it looks to be a one-level, two-bedroom, one-bathroom home that looks more like a log cabin. It has a charm I hadn’t expected.
“This is nice,” I say and walk into the kitchen to look around.
“Do you want somethin’ to drink?”
“Water would be great.”
It’s all very dark, but it’s masculine. Like him.
He hands me a bottle of water and takes one for himself. His hands shake, and I want to reach out and hold them. No matter how strong the urge is, it’s not my place anymore. Not now.
“You’re not having a beer?”
I’m trying to find something, anything, to relieve the awkwardness between us. We’ve never had this issue before, and I don’t really know what to do.
“I’ve been doin’ enough drinkin’, so I decided to cut down before I develop a problem. Do you want a tour?”
Shrugging, I nod. “Sure.”
I hate how uncomfortable things feel with us. Everything always just fit when we were around each other before. Even when I couldn’t tell if he actually liked me or not, it was comfortable.
“Well, this is the kitchen,” he says with a small smirk, and I mirror it. “And this is the small dinin’ area. The livin’ room is in here.”
I follow him into a small, dark but masculine room with a leather couch and leather recliner. I kind of like it. “No Christmas decorations?”
“Not this year,” he says. “Back there are the two bedrooms and a bath. There’s a half bath off the kitchen by the mudroom. It comes in handy when I’m workin’ in the garage. I’m kind of glad I cleaned yesterday, otherwise this would be a very different tour.”
“I’m not that high-maintenance,” I say, but I’m secretly happy he cleaned, too. I can only imagine how a blue-collared man’s home can get when left to his own devices. I picture dirty socks and empty beer cans everywhere.
He turns to face me, a frown on his face. “Trust me, you don’t want to know what this place looked like before. Everett and I have been hangin’ out here, and there were beer cans towered on most of the tables. And the bathroom hadn’t been cleaned in… I wish I could tell you. That’s how long it had been.”
