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“That’s adorable,” I take a drink from the glass he handed me and sit it on the counter. He lets Ranger back in and goes about feeding him before making his way back over towards me. He presses in against me at the counter, wrapping his arm around my waist.
“Waited a long time for you, Whit.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to my mouth and I am instantly swept up in this moment, this man. I’m kissing him back but he’s leading and it’s soft and romantic. He pulls back. “Thought about you every day I was gone.”
“I thought about you, too. I missed you so much. I lost Everly and then I lost you. Some days, I couldn’t even get out of bed, it hurt so bad. Seein’ her crib sitting in the corner of my room.” I wipe the tears from my face. “But momma was right there, tellin’ me that I needed to push through. To keep fighting’. Make Everly proud. It still hurts, not sure it ever won’t. But I knew she wouldn’t want me to live my life that way.” I inhale a shaky breath as Dean tucks me to his front, his chin resting on the top of my head.
“I wanted to ask you to come with me, to get away. I came to your house the night before I left,” he says. “Your daddy was on the porch, wouldn’t let me in the house to see you. Told me to leave it be, let you move on with your life. Told me to come back when I wasn’t a boy anymore, once I had my shit together.” A sob escapes me because that sounds like something my daddy would do. He knew I was hurting. Saw my pain. Felt it. Dean hadn’t called or texted in a week and I was heartbroken. I choke out a laugh.
“Sounds just like somethin’ he would have said.” He was always so protective of me. Destroyed me when he died two summers ago.
Dean cradles my face in his hands and tips my chin up with his fingers.
“Could we maybe try to start over? I really think I’d like to be your boyfriend, Whitley Jean.”
I shoot him a watery smile, remembering when he said those same words to me under the bleachers at that football game so many years ago. I wr
ap my arms around his neck. Back then we were just two stupid kids, in love and impulsive. I know if we crash and burn this time, I may not survive it but somehow, I still find myself agreeing.
“I’d really like that.”
Whitley
Stepping out of Dean’s shower, I wrap myself up in the plush towel that’s hanging on the back of the door. We are still getting into a groove in our relationship, but things are okay.
Relationship. It seems so weird to say that. I never thought that’s something that would blossom between the two of us, but it’s been pretty incredible. I’m trying to forgive him for running off like he did after Everly was born and he’s trying to forgive himself for not being here when I needed him the most. If we want our relationship to work, we both have to move on.
He’s spent all of his free time re-learning my body and what makes it tick, and I must say, the man has improved with age. The orgasms he’s giving me are outta this world. And I’m enjoying getting to know adult Dean and not teenage Dean, the boy who was always horny and in a hurry to get off. This Dean is very thorough and makes sure I’m satisfied, multiple times, before he even worries about himself.
I’m running the brush through my hair when the bathroom door opens, and he walks in carrying two coffee mugs. He sits one on the counter for me and presses a kiss to my temple.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” He asks, sipping his coffee, his eyes roaming over my towel-clad body.
“Well, I don’t know what’s on your agenda, but I promised my momma that I’d come see her. I’ve been puttin’ her off for weeks and she knows somethin’ is up. She demanded that I show up today or she’s disownin’ me.” Dean laughs. He knows my momma from before and knows that’s totally something she would say.
“Will your dad be there?” He asks, and it’s like a punch in the stomach. I freeze with the brush midway through my hair, struggling to breathe. Remembering that pain like it was yesterday, momma came to the bar to tell me she’d found daddy dead in the living room when she came back from grabbing groceries. His heart stopped, nothing anyone could have done to save him.
I clear my throat and resume brushing my hair, “uh, no. Daddy actually died about two years ago.” I can see Dean flinch out of the corner of my eye. He drops his head back to look up at the ceiling, sitting his coffee cup on the counter and running his hand down his face.
“Shit. I’m sorry honey, I had no idea.”
“Of course not, because you weren’t here.” He flinches again. I sigh, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me.”
“I shoulda known Whit. Truly. I’m sorry. Your daddy was a good man,” he tugs the brush out of my hand and pulls me flush against his body, smoothing his hand down my back. We stand like that for a long while before I pull away and finish getting ready.
****
I swing my Nissan into the driveway that sits in front of my parents’ house and that same sense of peace settles over me the way it does each time I come over. They bought this house when I was a baby, so it’s where they spent their twenty-six years of marriage until my daddy died. Momma’s talked about selling but deep down, I know she won’t. At least not yet. She isn’t ready to move on from those memories she’s still holding close to her heart.
I take the porch steps one at a time, stopping long enough to give her cat, Oreo, a quick rub down and a scratch behind the ears. He relishes in it before dismissing me with a saunter and swish of his tail, leaping off the porch to go chase a bird. I knock twice before swinging the heavy oak door open and letting myself in.
Not much has changed since I moved out. There are still all our family pictures hanging on the wall in the foyer. Multiple art projects from my younger years line the sofa table that sits off to the left, showing how terrible I truly was at the subject. Trinkets ranging from clay ashtrays to a ceramic bunny litter the table-top, same as they always have. Momma thinks everything has sentimental value. She has every piece of schoolwork I ever brought home arranged by year in totes up in the attic. Daddy always picked on her, telling her eventually she’d have to let go of some of it and she’d just roll her eyes and tell him to worry about himself.
I shut the door, following the noises coming from the kitchen. There’s momma, putting together lunch at the stove. She glances over her shoulder and shoots a smile my way.
“Baby, it’s good to see you. Where have you been hidin’?”
I make my way over and drop a kiss on her cheek before stealing a grape from the tray she’s arranging.
“Just been workin’ a lot. Bar hours don’t leave a lot of time to do much during the day.” I say, planting myself at the bar top. She huffs.
