Chapter Fifteen
It was fittingthat today was cold and gloomy. It suited my mood perfectly. Actually, the sun hadn’t been out since I’d ran up here to the lake house. Yeah, I had run away from Ethan like a coward, and now I was scared to go back and face what I’d done, face Ethan.
Looking out the front window, I observed how the world was surrounded with a blanket of thick fog this morning. I took my full cup of coffee and walked out onto the front porch. Leaning on the banister, I squinted into the gloom but couldn’t even make out the end of the porch steps. You’d never know there was a lake just fifty yards from the house.
Standing on the porch, I noticed that the fog muffled all sound, and I was engulfed in the silence and the solitude. I had always loved coming up here by myself. I loved my alone time. But standing in this fuzzy gray world of silence, my world became clear in an instant. Standing here all alone, felt oppressive for the first time. It wasn’t alone time. This time I was just lonely. I was trapped in a self-imposed gray world of solitude, and it wasn’t what I wanted any more.
I wanted sunlight. I wanted companionship. I wanted Ethan.
I had left the sunshine back in Fairpoint, but it wasn’t the one in the sky. No, Ethan had become the sunlight in my foggy life. I needed him to burn off the gloom and bring me back to the light. But I had seriously fucked up, and I had no idea how to fix it.
So here I stood, alone and indecisive and scared to fuck up even further.
I finally felt the cold, so I hiked up the collar on my flannel shirt jacket. The cold had settled into my bones. I had been cold ever since I left Ethan alone in the hallway looking like I’d backhanded him.
Fuck.
I shook my head at my stupidity. I could admit to myself now that I’d wanted him for so fucking long. He knew I wanted him. I’d told him as much, but when he felt my scar and asked about it, my insecurities had hit me at my most vulnerable moment. I’d run away. I'd run from the memories and the pain. I had been thinking that I couldn’t saddle a man as fine and perfect as Ethan with all my bullshit baggage.
But I missed him. Having him in my home, it felt like the house could breathe again. There were life and laughter. I wanted all of that and more. So, how did I fix it?
Sitting on the ancient porch swing, I pushed my foot to start swinging. The old rusted chain screeched in the stillness of the morning. The loud noise startled me out of my inner thoughts so much I spilled my coffee all over my jeans.
Fucking hell.
I jumped up fast, pushing the swing back away from me and started to wipe off the quickly cooling liquid on my jeans. I wasn't paying attention when the swing came back and hit my knees, making them buckle. I fell back into the swing, causing what was left of my coffee to come flying out of the cup all over the rest of me.
Cursing and wiping off my face, I heard what sounded like laughter out in the fog. Then there was clapping, and finally, footsteps came up the stairs. The fog slowly revealed Aunt Lillian’s small form encased in a huge gray poncho. Her red hair was the only vibrant thing I could see in the fog.
“You’re either a genius comedian or a complete klutz, Jamie. I’m willing to bet it’s the latter.”
She laughed and came over to help me stand from the evil swinging death trap.
“Let’s get you inside and cleaned up, honey. You’re a mess, and we’ve got things to discuss.”
I let her in the door first, then headed to the main bedroom, peeled off my nearly frozen, coffee-stained clothes and jumped into the gloriously hot shower. The cabin was old, but I’d be forever grateful I’d spent the money to update the plumbing, heat and air conditioning. I kept the shower quick, then jumped out, dried off and put on another pair of jeans and a gray Henley. The non-color still fit my mood.
The smell of bacon cooking drew me to the kitchen like a drug, making my stomach growl so loud I was sure Aunt Lillian could hear it. She might have if she wasn’t singing Crazy Train at the top of her lungs.
She had taken her poncho off and was standing in my small kitchen in a black Harley Davidson t-shirt and jeans. Her long hair was tied back into her signature braid down her back. I loved her voice. It was a little gruff from all the years she’d smoked, but it suited her no-nonsense personality.
I stepped up behind her and joined in on the last few words, and we harmonized perfectly. At that moment, I remembered we used to do the same thing when I was young. I had forgotten until now, but sweet memories came flooding back all of a sudden and I blurted out, “We used to do this almost every Sunday didn’t we? I would help you make biscuits.”
Aunt Lillian turned around and placed both her hands on my face, pulled it down to her level, and kissed my cheek.
“Yes, we did, Jamie. When you were about six or seven, you would come and stay with me some weekends if your mama and daddy went out of town. Your mama, bless her, didn’t cook worth a damn, and I thought every kid should know how to cook. So, when you stayed with me, we had fun in the kitchen. You were always eager to help, but John mostly found ways to go do something else.”
“I can’t believe I forgot until now. How could I forget that?”
“Honey, you’ve had so much thrown at you in your young life.”
I frowned at her for the young comment. I was forty for heaven's sake, not a teenager.
“Don’t you scowl at me, young man? You just turned forty, and you’re acting like you’re on death’s door. Honey, I’m over sixty, and I’m just getting started with this life.”
She latched on to my shoulders and gave me a little shake.
“You have your whole life ahead of you, sweetheart, but you need to actually live it to make it count. Quit running away and go for what you want. We all see what’s going on with you and Ethan. He’s what you want. I can see that, plain as day. And that boy is what you need. All those months of you two texting and messaging, and you fell for him, Jamie. And just seeing the looks he gives you, that kid digs the hell out of your stubborn red-headed ass.”
