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The rain clashed against the roof and glass like rocks, which meant there might be some hail coming down. That, with the wind howling through the cracks and crevices of the house, made the silence between us echo.
She watched her cup fill, ignoring me, until finally she let out a sigh.
“I’m surprised you don’t already know that too.”
Again with that fucking attitude.
“Your parentsareprotective of your privacy, more than you probably realize.” I sipped my coffee, ignoring the frustration that was beginning to build in my chest.
She made a sound of agreement, finally pulling her cup free and slowly sipping it with a wince, like she didn’t like the taste. This wasn’t going the way I wanted it to at all. Roger was wrong; there was no getting through to his daughter, and truthfully, she might be beyond help. She seemed to have a stick up her ass, and there was not enough lubricant in the world to get it loose.
“How about I just drive you back? My truck is down, but I could drive Millie’s car. I know these roads a lot better than you do.” I didn’t trust that she’d be able to handle the curves of the mountain with that head wound. What if her vision went blurry and she didn’t realize it, or she passed out?
That icy glare cut through me as she set her cup down.
“No thank you. I know these roads like the back of my hand.”
I narrowed my gaze, inspecting her for the lie. “Bullshit, no one knows these roads unless they drive them every day.”
“Well, you don’t know me,at all,” she bit out angrily, before shaking her head and turning on her heel. I knew she had emphasized the tail end of her comment in response to when I had said I knew her better than anyone the other night in the laundry room. I probably needed to apologize for what I had said because while she had started it, by the way she’d flushed and almost cried—I had definitely ended it.
“Fuck. Okay. I’m sorry about that comment, and the one I made the other night.”
She paused in the doorway of my kitchen, a pensive expression on her face that crumpled after a moment. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. I honestly just want to go home.”
“I get that, but…” Dammit, I didn’t want to say what was about to come out of my mouth next, didn’t want to show how desperate I was, but I also didn’t want her to leave. “I wouldn’t mind the company; it gets quiet up here.”
Blue eyes flashed, searching mine briefly before she gave me a single nod.
I backed away from the counter and walked over to the back window. I didn’t want to spook her, so I watched the rain instead of inspecting her every move.
“So…” Rae drawled, “How did you meet my parents and get to know them well enough to where you’re all they talk about?”
Adjusting my stance near the window, I looked up, thinking back on when I first met Roger and Millie.
“They have been delivering up here for the last couple of years, trying to make us mountain dwellers feel less disconnected from the town. They started with Thanksgiving dinner, and then Christmas pies. They were so nice, I couldn’t even be mad when they kept showing up. We struck up a friendship, and then all the sudden both your parents were up here once a week, delivering food and whatever groceries I needed from town.”
Such a shitty way to summarize my only relationship of substance.
“Wait.” She wrapped her soft coral nails around the ceramic mug, while her brows crowded her delicate forehead. “So they were delivering up here before they even started the delivery business?”
I nodded, sipping from my cup. “We joked about me giving them the idea, actually.”
She made a surprising sound from the back of her throat. It caught me off guard, so much so that I gently set my cup down and glared at her.
“Did you just scoff?”
Mimicking my movement with her mug, she stood away from the counter. “Yeah, I did.”
Was she serious? “Why?”
She shrugged, her face reddening. “Just sounds like my aging parents were endangering their lives a ton just to appease someone who’s too lazy to leave the house.”
Gritting my teeth, I tried to focus on what Roger had said about his concern with Rae, and how badly he wanted her to stay. I could be nice.I would be fucking nice if it killed me.
“That’s quite an assumption.”
“Well, how often did you visit them at their house?” she asked, flicking her wrist out as if to encourage me to answer.
