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9
WILL
When the plates fell to the ground and shattered with a loud crash, I flinched and jumped into action. I dropped into a crouch, picking up the bigger pieces as Aria backed up, two small scratches lining the tops of her feet from where the jagged shards had bounced off of them.
“Oh, honey,” Donna said, rushing to her side as I focused on the mess before me. “Come here, let’s get you cleaned up.”
“I’ll get a broom,” Shelby said.
“What was that?” Paul asked from behind me as he and Joe walked up. “Is everything okay?”
“I made Aria drop the plates,” I said as I piled the pieces on top of one of the white circles that wasn’t completely broken. The confession of guilt had come faster than lightning, but I’d focused on the task at hand, pushing away old wounds that had me fearing the backlash from the accident. I wasn’t a kid. I wasn’t in my old house. I was a grown man and safely next door.
“Here, back up, I’ve got it,” Shelby said as the broom entered my field of vision.
I straightened and carried the larger pieces to the trash, annoyed that my task was taken over. It was a job I could focus on, a mess that was more tangible than the thoughts swirling around my head. Rather than thinking about the ice in my veins from the initial crash, Aria’s words rang in my ears. She had no feelings for me, but the Jason Momoa look-alike had her attention? I guessed that was my answer as far as her type. I was tall and built and there were plenty of women who thought I was hot. But I didn’t resemble Jason freaking Momoa in the slightest.
Hot jealousy stung the back of my throat as I looked over at her. She’d just finished swiping a wet paper towel over the scratches on her feet and was telling her mom she was fine. I was relieved to hear that, not that I thought she was in danger of bleeding out all over the kitchen floor or anything. But even given my current mood, I didn’t want to see her hurting.
“Well, I’m regretting pulling out my nice dishes,” Donna said with a shaky laugh. “I should have gone with the Corelle. They’re shatterproof.”
“Yeah, you kids have dropped plenty of those bad boys over the years,” Joe said with a chuckle as Shelby swept up the last of the mess on the floor.
Donna took out a stack of plain white plates and handed them to me. “Will, would you put these on the table, sweetheart?”
“Sure thing,” I said, carrying them to the dining room without sparing another glance at Aria—or anyone else. I know I hadn’t been the one to drop the plates, but I’d caused it, and I was more than a little embarrassed to have created such a scene. Especially considering my gut reaction to it, immediately fearing some kind of punishment for my role in the mess.
As I set the table, just like I had so many times before, the familiar scene tugged at something inside of me. They’d had these plates since we were kids. They really must be indestructible. The happy memories floated through my mind in a blur of painful nostalgia as I made my way around the chairs. I’d eaten so many meals at this table, on these plates, with this family. Simple dinners in this house were a bigger deal to me than they should have been.
Which was why I couldn’t let Aria’s words get to me. It shouldn’t bother me at all that she liked that dude at work. Even if I thought I could give her the future she deserved (which I didn’t) I also couldn’t risk blowing up what I had with the rest of the Bristols if it ever went south. And with me, if I turned out anything like my dad, the ways it could go south would be devastating. But even a simple breakup would probably wreck what I had with this family, and I couldn’t bear the thought of that.
By the time everyone else joined me in the dining room, they’d already moved past the plate-breaking thing. Aria wouldn’t meet my eyes as she took a seat across from me, though, so I forced myself to play it cool. What, was she mad that I’d made her drop the plates? She was the one who ran into me right after telling her mom she preferred the groundskeeper to me. I should be mad at her. Not that I had any right to be.
Then a sweeping realization came over me, and I blinked down at my empty plate. Why had they even been talking about whether or not she had feelings for me? When I’d walked into the kitchen, I hadn’t heard the beginning of the conversation. I’d only heard Aria say sheseriouslydidn’t have feelings for me. But who had asked? And why?
Over the years, I thought I’d done a pretty good job of hiding things. Like the way every nerve in my body lit up when she came in the room. Or the way my blood pumped whenever she was near me, causing me to stuff my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t fold her into my arms. Or the way her smile would brighten up whatever kind of day I’d had, from the bitter and sad to the scary and chaotic. Paul had never taken my interactions with Aria to mean anything, so unless Aria herself had brought it up, why would her mom?
“Will, are you still going to carpool with Paul when he and Shelby move into their own place?” Donna asked, serving me up a dish of chicken and dumplings.
The immediate smell of home and love wafting up from my plate momentarily stole my voice, but I forced a smile and shook my head. “I don’t know, I guess that depends where they move. I’m not going out of my way for this guy.”
They all chuckled, but Paul shot me a disbelieving look. “Whatever.”
“We’re hoping to find a small house as close to this neighborhood as we can. It would be great to be near you guys and my parents,” Shelby told her.
Shelby grew up a couple blocks down, her house matching the rest of ours. Everyone at the table fit so perfectly into this cookie-cutter neighborhood. Everyone but me, of course. My biggest fear was moving into a house like this with a family like theirs and then finding out I didn’t belong in it any more than my dad had belonged in ours. He belonged right where he was at this very moment. Locked up like the monster he is.
Before I knew where it came from, an idea took root, and I sat up straighter in my chair. “Actually, I think I’m going to get a motorcycle.”
All eyes flew to me, and Joe leaned forward, pointing at me with his fork. “A motorcycle? You ride?”
“I can, yeah,” I replied, finishing the mouthful of rich dumpling I’d just taken. “I rode dirt bikes when I was stationed in Yuma, but then I sold it when I went to the drill field. I knew I wouldn’t have much time to ride out there. Plus, there wasn’t as much open desert near the base in San Diego as there was in Arizona.”
Joe shrugged. “Make sure you wear a helmet.”
Aria, Donna, and Shelby all raised their brows at his apparent approval of the idea, but Paul’s mouth hung open. “You’re ditching me?”
“You’re ditching me,” I retorted with a laugh.
