“Yup, they built it all in a day and refused to let us pay for it. They also built a small ramp over those two steps that lead into the den, with a handrail and everything. Your dad hasn’t been in there in ages to listen to his records, but every night since then he sits in his favorite creased chair, playing record after record, humming along. He’s a new man, I swear it.”
I hadn’t realized my dad had been avoiding stairs. I knew his knee bothered him, and I know he has a cane but refuses to use it. They never let on as to how bad it was.
“He took a look around the rest of the house. He thinks that they will be able to move the washer and dryer from the basement into your old bedroom off the kitchen. That way, yourdad and I don’t have to go down any stairs because everything would be in one place. I thought that was just so sweet of him.”
I swallow thickly, blowing out a breath through pursed lips to halt the tears brimming at my eyes. “Why did he do all that?” I whisper, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth so I don’t cry.
She’s quiet for a moment, her smile audible over the line. “I think we both know why he did, honey.”
“But I’m an asshole.” I’m such an asshole. I pushed away the one man who would do anything for me. For Jackson. For my sister. For my parents. A man I care about equally as much. I’ve been in love with him for weeks and couldn’t even take the time to have a civilized adult conversation.
She sighs heavily. “You’re the furthest thing from an asshole, sweetheart. Somewhere, deep inside, you’re just an eight-year-old girl who doesn’t believe she deserves love. But you do.”
I drop the phone to my chest, tilting my head to the ceiling to quell the tears. I exhale slowly, taking a moment to pull my composure before I bring the phone back to my ear. “I gotta go, Mom.”
“I know you do. Anyways, I expect to see you both for dinner tonight.”
I toss my phone on the counter next to my abandoned coffee, a new found determination filling my veins. If I have to march over to his apartment and bang on the door, sit on the floor in front of it like a stalker until he’s willing to talk to me, then so be it.
Rounding the island, I race back to my room to change, tripping over a scattered high heel from last night as I do. As soon as I’m out of my dark, gloomy kitchen, my eyes fall to the patio doors.
My patio doors give me a clear view of my backyard, and the figure standing next to a wheelbarrow full of rich, black dirt. A path of footprints is worn in the dewy grass, leading out of mypicket fence and to the Charlebois and Sons truck parked on the side street.
That figure doesn’t notice me because he’s too busy shoveling black dirt into two gorgeous, chestnut, raised garden beds that definitely weren’t in my yard an hour ago.
His broad shoulder muscles flex with each movement, visible even under the gray Grace General hoodie. He's meticulously moving shovel after shovel full of dirt from the wheelbarrow to my boxes, and I’ll be damned if I don’t spot Clementine’s crotchety ass perched on the edge of an empty garden bed. Her tail slowly swishes back and forth, looking relaxed and friendly as ever as if she’s completely content to bask in the presence of her man.
“Move over, bitch,” I mumble under my breath as I swing open the patio door, “this one’s mine.”
I pad down the concrete steps, wincing when my bare feet hit the damp grass. With one hand holding the neckline of my robe in place so I don’t flash the neighborhood my tits, I call out his name, my voice barely a whisper. I clear my throat, letting every emotion I have fly out of my mouth as I call to him again.
Clementine hears me, whips her head in my direction and scampers away, likely hissing, but I’m too focused on him to care.
Jim sees her run, and turns to the side. His eyes widen, taking in everything from my shocked expression to the robe barely holding my breasts in. He pulls an air pod from his ear, head pivoting to look around, ensuring none of my neighbors are outside.
“Meg.” His arm comes up to grasp my elbow, gently turning me back towards the house. “Go back inside. It’s freezing out here.”
I don’t answer, instead I let go of the hand that was covering my chest, and pull the front of his hoodie to bring him closer tome, close enough that I can see the flecks of green in his irises. “What are you doing here?”
He searches my face, the dark circles under his eyes a clue that his night might have been as rough as mine. I study his face, the purple shadow hovering below his left eye from the one measly shot Marcus got in. He parts his perfect mouth, licking his lips once before answering. “I’m filling your garden beds.”
“I see that,” I say softly. “But why? Why are you here after everything last night?”
His nostrils flare, and he stacks both hands on the handle of his shovel, leaning over to let it hold his weight before he sighs, standing tall and letting the shovel fall to the ground with a clamor.
“Because I love you, Meg.”
My breath hitches in my throat, heart thundering against my ribs. If his gaze left my face, I’m sure he’d see my pulse ready to beat through the skin on my chest.
“And when you have this all-consuming love for someone like I do,” he continues, “I don’t care about our stupid spat, and I sure as hell don’t care that you took out your frustration with your asshole ex on me. I love you so much that I’ll still come over at the crack of dawn to set up your garden beds because I promised you I would, and you’re the type of woman that deserves to have promises kept. I love you so much tha—”
I fling my arms around his neck, pulling his face down to mine so I can crash our lips together. His steps fumble, but he catches himself, letting his hands roam all over my back, my shoulders, down to my ass where they find their home. I push all of my emotions into this kiss, holding him so close to me that I can barely breathe, shaking hands grappling for stability around his neck.
I pull apart, leaving my forehead pressed against his, and I shut my eyes, soaking in his soft pants on my face. “Comeinside.” I kiss him once more before pulling back, letting my arms slide from his shoulders down to his hands. Releasing him, I take two steps back, then another, before turning to take the few paces to my back porch.
“I’m never going to leave you,” Jim's gritty voice carries over the early morning air. I peek over my shoulder, watching as he raises both hands up, curling his fingers under the neck of his sweatshirt to pull the fabric over his head. He shucks it to the ground beside him, leaving it discarded next to the shovel.
He takes another step forward with his eyes locked on me. “You’ve lost the person who meant the most to you in this world. And at some of your most vulnerable times, others have left you. We will argue, we’ll disagree on many things, you'll try to push me away at times because it's instinct, but it won't work. I know it'll take time for you to trust me, and I'm okay with that.” He pauses, working his jaw back and forth. “I love you, and that’s not a word I use lightly. So you need to know that if I follow you into that house, this is it.”
