Page 88 of Second Chance

36

Just Like Old Times, But Not Really

[Mati]

Denton offers to walk Mama out to her car, and I remain in the kitchen. It’s as clean as it will be with its older cabinets and dull linoleum floor. I finish wiping down the counter as Denton walks back into the room.

“Thank you for saving me,” I say immediately, grateful to escape a grilling ride home with my mother whose eagle eyes didn’t miss the glances exchanged between Denton and me.

“Thank you for being here,” he says, stepping closer to me, but pausing too far away. His hands slip into his pockets like he needs to keep them contained, so I take a step toward him. Reaching for his chest, I slide my palm hesitantly down the T-shirt he wears. The material is soft, but underneath is hard, firm, and flinching at my touch.

“I’m sorry about the other night.” I’m not certain why I’m apologizing or what even happened, but we were definitely a bit unhinged. Arms envelop me and draw me into his chest. My cheek rests against the well-worn cotton, and I hear his heart racing.

“No, Mati. I’m sorry.” A kiss comes to the top of my head, and his lips linger. “I’m all kinds of messed up by being back here.” My own heart clenches with the sentiment, although I don’t fault him. It must be strange to be back. Things aren’t exactly how he remembers them. I’m different, for one thing. We’re different, for another. “I’m so glad you’re staying.”

I pull back a little so I can look up at him, but I don’t release him from my arms around his waist. “What can I do for you?”

“So many answers to that question,” he murmurs before leaning down for the briefest of kisses—too quick, too tender. I don’t want to let him go, but I swallow my desire and remember what my mama said.

She isn’t going to last the night.

“How’s your mama?”

“The nurses say it could be anytime. Everything is failing. She’s heavily sedated in hopes to keep the pain at a minimum. She hasn’t opened her eyes in days. She’s still muttering things, but the sounds are completely indecipherable.” His sad voice washes over me as his fingers come to my throat like they do, cupping me. His thumb strokes the side of the neck.

“Did she ever answer all your questions?”

He simply shakes his head as an answer, and a weak grin flinches at his lips. “Some things I’ll never know.”

We haven’t talked further about his father—Kip, that is—and the possibility he wasn’t his dad. I’m hoping in due time we will, but his mother is the priority tonight. My behavior toward him the other night was unforgivable, considering his circumstances. He came to talk to me, as he told me, and things got turned upside down. I repeat my earlier question.

“What can I do?”

“Would it be too much to ask you to stay? Mama’s in her room, but I could set you in a room down the hall. Just knowing you’re here waiting for me would mean so much.”

“Of course,” I respond immediately, without understanding how this will help him, but the sorrow in his voice makes me willing to do anything he asks.

We’re silent as we climb the stairs, him leading the way by holding my hand. Our lack of words makes me wonder if we shouldn’t be doing this, as if he’s sneaking me upstairs because he doesn’t want anyone to know I’m here. Cora pops into my head, and I wonder when the sneaky devil left, and why. I’ll be having words with her later, I scold in my head.

As we reach the landing, Denton looks back at me and squeezes my fingers. He takes me toward the front of the house, which is the opposite direction of his mother’s room.

“When I was a kid, I stayed here. I’ve slept here the last few nights. It was easier than going back and forth to the Lodge as I didn’t know how things would progress with Mama.”

I nod to acknowledge him. The room is disheveled. An unmade bed. A pile of clothes loosely draped over a chair in the corner. Two large windows with shades pulled to half-mast. It doesn’t look like a little boy’s room with the knotted white bedspread—literally, an antiquated spread which hangs to the floor. The double sized mattress sits on a white wrought iron frame with a spindled head and footboard. I don’t know how Denton has fit on such a dainty, pretty thing. A faded circular rug covers the floor under the bed along with a pair of kicked-off shoes, a phone charger, and an open but off laptop.

“Do you mind hanging out in here?”

I still haven’t spoken, a little afraid of my own voice. I shake my head again to show I understand but find my entire body quivers a little. Denton’s hands rub up and down my shoulders before one hand comes to my throat again. He pauses there, his thumb stroking, his eyes focusing on mine.

“I’m so grateful you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” The words cause his eyes to enflame from a flicker to a full inferno. Instantly, his mouth covers mine as he crushes me to his body. His tongue lashes out, demanding mine twirl with his and I melt against him. He tips my head by a gentle nudge at my throat and the kiss deepens. His lips lead mine, dragging and drugging me. I want this man.

He pulls back abruptly but tugs my lower lip with his.

“I need to go.” The reality of his situation catches up to me quickly and I feel foolish for my readiness to tackle him to the floor.

“Of course. I’ll be right here.”