Knowing he'll be there makes it feel so much easier to stomach. "Okay. Okay, good."
"I got your window ordered, should be here quick--there's one in Sevierville, so just a couple days. I was thinking I might call Wilder and Tate to help me with the rest of the tree. We could knock it out together in a day, but alone it'll take me a minute."
"Oh, good idea. Plus, a buffer. Maybe the girls will come too."
"I bet they will."
Grey's quiet for a moment, thumb tracing my knee. "So…chicken?"
A small laugh, then I sigh. "Mom says when I was born, I had fluffy blonde hair that stuck straight up like a baby chick. Dad started calling me chicken and it stuck."
He chuckles. There's something about the way he's looking at me that flutters my uterus.
"When I was a toddler, I'd tuck my hands in my armpits and flap around goingcheep cheep. Very dignified."
Grey smiles, warm and soft. "I'd pay to see that."
" It's cute. Little ironic, considering they're afraid of everything. But you're not. You're too brave to ever be called chicken."
I snort. Tell that to Monday-me. They want to go to the Rambler's game, and I'm terrified to be in public with them. I mean, if I'm alone whatever, let people talk and look. But the more ammunition my parents have the worse it'll be for me."
"Bring camping chairs. Sit up by the fence behind the plate. Less people will bother you there, especially facing the field."
"Smart. Doing that. And then, maybe I really will send them home, and we can have the rest of the week together, at least."
"I love the sound of that," he says.
"Me too." I turn and shift, and he sits back, making room for me to climb in his lap. "And in the meantime, if you can't stay over, I'll sneak out and we can sneak around a little." I plant my knees next to his hips and hold his face.
He looks up at me with adoration, his rough hands sliding up my thighs to my ass. "Ireallylove the sound of that."
Laughing, I kiss him, thankful we at least have this.
The rest, we'll have to make work.
And I really hope we can.
CHAPTER 48
FRESH HELL
GREY
The next three days were stacked with one fresh hell after another.
Saturday morning, I showed up at her house early with the gang in tow, chainsaws and muscles galore. The girls came with them, including Cricket, who was so excited to paint, she couldn't see straight. Molly's relief was palpable, the buffer effective. We divided and conquered her parents, and with so many people there, it kept the heat off us. The girls rallied around her fiercely and loyally, and the sight made me feel gratitude in my marrow.
I showed her dad how to use the chainsaw without losing a limb and left him with the guys to work on collecting brush and remnants for the burn pile and clear the trunk blocks they cut, lining them up on the side of the house to split later for firewood. I barely saw her all day, despite being within thirty feet of her at all times. The longing was so obvious and painful, I think they felt it from space. I was so hyperaware of her dad watching, Imeasured every word, doing my best to prove I'm everything she says I am--good, safe, worthy.
It was exhausting.
Sunday was more of the same. We got the tree finished and they guys helped me start splitting. The girls seemed to appreciate this, and at one point gathered on the porch with lemonade to watch. And we all pranced around like performing monkeys for them, even Molly's dad.
My only solace was when I'd pick Molly up after her parents went to bed so we could steal a few hours, surviving on crumbs.
Still, crumbs were better than nothing, and I ate up every one.
It's Monday now, and this morning it was just me and her dad splitting wood, though his strength was gone. At one point he went in under the guise of getting something to drink and was gone for an hour.
