Page 104 of My Favorite Hero

“Well, you’ll get used to it. I’m gone for the next three nights.”

“Is something wrong, Jesse?” I asked.

“Nope. I just need to get this done. I have other things I planned to do that I put off to make these for you. So it’s going to be a busy day, then I head in.” He finished his coffee. “Miller can come with me so you won’t be bothered looking after him.”

“Miller is never a bother,” I responded, hurt by his words. “But apparently I am. Leave the garden bed, Thorne. I’ll add the liner in. I’m sure I can figure it out.”

He snorted, the sound derisive. “Knowing you, you’ll staple your hand to the wood or something, and I’ll end up coming home to take you to the hospital. I’ll finish it—it’ll be quicker and less of a pain in my ass.”

I blinked at the sudden rush of tears in my eyes.

“If you have other things I’ve kept you from, I apologize. I won’t take up any more of your valuable time.” I turned on my heel and went inside my door, shutting it behind me. I resisted slamming it, but barely.

He didn’t follow.

Angry and hurt, I wiped away the wet around my eyes. I was shocked how much his words stung.

I got busy and ready for the day, refusing to let him know how upset I was. He was obviously in a bad mood and needed a little time to cool off. While I was washing the dishes, I saw him carry his tools into the garage and bring out a couple of totes I had asked him about when we’d parked the car in the garage. I waited as he carried them over, wondering if he’d knock and come in so we could clear the air, but I heard the thump of them being put on the deck, and there was no knock. A moment later, I heard the telltale sound of his back door shutting.

Not long after, he called for Miller, who got off the sofa and obediently went to see his master. An hour later, as I sat at my desk, his truck pulled out of the driveway, and he was gone.

The tears returned with a vengeance, and I let them drip down my cheeks.

I had no idea what had happened.

Or how to fix it.

I tried working, but my mind wasn’t on the tasks at hand. I did what I had to do, then gave up. I went to the kitchen to get something to eat, opening the fridge and stopping. There was still one cupcake left from our picnic.

I sat down, thinking of the perfect day we’d had. Carefree, happy Jesse. How much we enjoyed the drive, the lunch, the spontaneous sex in the brook. The cuddling in the car. Even his sad story hadn’t taken away from the day. I had thought it made us closer. And last night, he admitted he didn’t want to see other women.

But something had happened. Something I missed.

I made some toast and sat at the table, staring into space. After, I rinsed my plate and recalled the totes Jesse had put on the deck.

I opened the door and dragged them in. They were dusty, well-sealed, and marked “Memories.” They weren’t heavy, and I was curious as to their content. Jesse had shrugged when I’d asked him.

“Lou had them in her closet. I had no idea what they were but thought if she’d kept them, they had to be important to her. I have one in the guest room I’ll bring you too. It’s marked ‘Papers and Photos.’ I wanted to keep it dry.”

I pursed my lips, looking at these two totes. He might have been angry, but he’d remembered I’d asked about them and brought them over for me. That meant something, at least.

I dragged them to the living room, sitting down to open them after I wiped away the dust. Barney appeared, looking lost, meowing loudly for Miller. I bent and rubbed his head. “I know, baby. I miss them too. Even if one of them is a jerk at times.”

He meowed at me, and I rubbed his tummy for a while until he decided it was enough and he jumped up on the sofa. He gave one more meow, as if calling for Miller, then, with a huff, lay down.

I knew exactly how he felt.

I opened the first tote, my eyes widening at the photo album sitting on the top. I pulled it out, opened it up and gasped. It was filled with pictures of Lou when she was young. From the dates written on the pages with the pictures, most of them were in the sixties and onward. Some were black-and-white, while others were color. She wore dresses and smart outfits, looking into the camera and smiling widely. She was beautiful, her dark hair styled in the fashion of the day, cat-eye liner highlighting her brown eyes and a mischievous expression on her face. She had little handwritten notes, and I realized these were modeling pictures. I gazed at the pictures in wonder, slowly flipping through the album.

She was a stunner.

I wished Jesse were here to see these. He would have gotten a kick out of it.

I shut the album and peered into the tote after pulling out the tissue paper. I was so excited, instantly recognizing the items stored in there.

They were the clothes Lou had modeled in the pictures. Or at least some of them. I carefully unpacked them, marveling at the pristine condition. There were dresses and jumpsuits. Pants and blouses. Skirts. When I had emptied the tote, I opened the second one, finding shoes and accessories, as well as some shorts. I stared at the fashionable pieces, amazed. The Lou I knew only ever wore overalls, jeans, or khakis. Loose shirts, sandals, and runners. Big hats. Jesse said she’d never changed. But obviously, she had been into fashion as a young woman. I lifted one dress in particular, holding it up. It was vintage. Deep blue with white polka dots. A halter neck that plunged in the front, edged in lace. Nipped in at the waist.

It was pretty yet, in the pictures of Lou, screamed sexy kitten.