Page 11 of Can’t Say No

I’ve missed her so much.

I’ve spent years making futile attempts to avoid all things Delaney James. I tried to watch her launch to superstardom at a distance. At arms length and in bite-sized pieces, I could manage. From far away, the ache of missing her, of wanting her, was tolerable.

But now? Seeing her arm in arm with my dad again after all these years?

I think I’m drowning.

“You coming?” Dad hollers over his shoulder, practically dragging Delaney through the door, “There may or may not be a whole chocolate cake in here with your name on it.”

I clear my throat, trying to find air again, and follow the pair inside. “I wouldn’t dream of missing out on that.”

Photos line the walls of the entryway, ones my sister meticulously picked out and hung when he first moved in. It makes the place feel less old-man bachelor pad and more like a well-worn family home.

Delaney takes it all in as she toes her shoes off at the front door. The downstairs is nice and open, with a large couch and inviting kitchen anchoring opposite sides of the space.

“I like your house, Reg.”

My dad shrugs from behind the kitchen counter. “Nothing beats the orchard but this definitely is a bit easier to keep up with. At least the old farmhouse is still in the family.” Dad pins me with a knowing look then continues, “And hopefully Connor will get to filling it up with more grandkids for me soon.”

“Can’t I have one day of peace, dad?”

He laughs, slicing three different varieties of our apples and arranging them with care on a platter. “Nope. I’ll be teasing you for a while still, son.”

“And I’m thankful for it,” I mumble, pulling him for a side hug.

Delaney stands a bit off to the side, silently watching our interaction, and that tug in my chest ricochets through me again. It’s a bone deep sadness over the all the missed time, and good helping of guilt too, for my part in creating the divide between us.

Delaney catches my eye, and there’s no doubt in my mind that she feels it, too.

“I’ll deny it if anyone asks,” she says, voice low and thick with emotion, “but, fuck, I missed y’all.”

Dad motions her over. “Well then, get over here, Lanie girl!”

He pulls her into our hug and embraces us both.

Dad clears his throat and I don’t have to look up to know he’s got tears in his eyes. The old guy cries at just about anything lately. And we’ve never talked about it, but I know Delaney’s departure was hard on him, too.

“I know things are rough for you right now, Lanie, but maybe it’s a good thing you’re back in Ridgecrest for a bit. You know this will always be your home.”

At the mention of home, I feel her stiffen in my arms.

Delaney shimmies out of our little group hug and any trace of sentimentality falls from her face. “Not sure about all that,” she says with a laugh, “but it is nice to see you again. Is that caramel ready yet?”

Dad gets to work drizzling the fresh caramel over the apples while I bring the chocolate cake over from the kitchen to the little breakfast nook. As handy as my dad is on the farm, his real talent is baking. He used to run a little bakery out of the orchard until it became too much to keep up with. His chocolate cake is sinful, probably my favorite thing he bakes, and I dive straight in with a fork, not wasting time to slice it.

Dad joins us at the table, presenting the apples to Delaney with a flourish that brings her smile back for a moment.

“Alright kids, you know the drill. How was day one? Got a good bunch of students? How’s my Caroline?”

I nod, mouth full of cake. “Caroline is good. My seniors are gonna give me a run for my money, but in a good way. Real bright group; I’m excited to watch them grow. And Rutledge has me doing a section of freshmen English… that’s gonna be mildly painful but it’s probably good for me.”

“And how about you Delaney?” Dad questions, taking the seat beside me at the breakfast table. He winces as he lowers himself down, and I make a mental note to remind him to slow down. “What did you think about Mrs. Crane?”

Delaney takes a delicate bite of her caramel apples before speaking. “She’s intense.”

My dad and I wait, but Delaney doesn’t give us anything else and I have to stifle a laugh from behind a mouthful of cake. Delaney’s always been like this: hot and cold, swinging from happy to melancholy at the drop of a hat. Some might find her ever-changing moods annoying, but to me, it’s endearing.

She’s a galaxy of emotion and I’ve always loved the stars.